The promised soulmate
by Thecricketsarecalling
Summary: Michael Langdon is given a bride to bare his heir. A soulmate, property to become obsessed and kill over. Is it control? Or love? What happens when Michael actually for the first time in his life feels something in that dark heart of his?
1. Chapter 1

"I would like to introduce you to my wife, Regan Langdon."

Instantly everyone from the outpost exchanged looks as Michael opened his arm, revealing the petite young woman wearing what appeared to be leather pants, heels, and a black peacoat. She had fair skin, big doe brown eyes, and dirty blond hair that was done up in a loose bun, with two twirling strands that hung down framing her pretty face. Her eye makeup was light, but matched Michael's. She had little to no expression, instead she stood by his side, as his arm snaked around her shoulders. She stared ahead, her pretty eyes looking lifeless. Mallory watched her, and saw how close Michael was holding this young girl by his side. She looked at her, and instantly she noticed something. As Michael went on, talking about the "interviews" that were to be conducted, she gently nudged Coco, and leaned in whispering...

"She's pregnant."

Coco seemed annoyed, and raised an eyebrow before leaning in back to her.

"What?!"

She harshly whispered back. Mallory wouldn't take her eyes off Regan. She motioned with her head.

"Look, beneath the coat. She's pregnant."

Coco made a face.

"Maybe she just had a heavy lunch..."

Less than a minute later Coco began complaining that her money bought her a ticket to the outpost, and she found this whole interview nonsense stupid. Langdon didn't seem phased by this, and simply stated facts that if anyone refused to be interviewed, they would be left here to die. He showed off the glass bottle that would put the unlucky ones to sleep before the outpost became overrun as did the others. Mallory continued staring at Regan, and noticed for just a brief second her body seemed to start to slightly sway, before Michael squeezed her body firmly against his as he finished talking. This woman looked as if she was sleeping walking...like in a trace or something.

Instantly something didn't seem right.

A few minutes later everyone was dismissed as Michael and Regan left the room. Mallory ignored the caddy comments being spoken at the table as Coco complained and ordered her to head to the bathroom with her, all ready nervous about her interview. Mallory helped smooth out her dress. It appeared Gallant was going first. As they walked out into the driveway, they saw Ms. Venable was in the hallway talking with Langdon. His wife Regan was silently standing right beside him, eyes cast downward. Coco smiled before whispering to Mallory...

"Might as well try to butter up management..."

Before Mallory could say another word, Coco hurried down the hallway in their direction, dress swishing behind her. She passed Michael who had his back facing her, still talking to Ms. Venable, and approached Mrs. Langdon who slowly lifted her eyes to her. Coco smiled.

"Hi, I'm Coco. So very nice to meet you. Please forgive me in asking but I couldn't help but notice your pregnant. At least there's some glimmering hope for the future in this shithole of a wasteland! What are you having a boy or a girl..."

Before she could finish, Mallory watched in slow motion as Coco reached forward, hand opened the touch the gentle swell of Mrs. Langdon's stomach, which was practically hidden beneath her closed coat. That's when Michael glanced over, strands of his fallen red hair falling back as he glanced and eyes widened at what was about to happen. Mallory watched and within less than two seconds his own arm shot out like a bullet, striking like a snake as it snatched Coco's hand which was just about to touch his wife's stomach. Coco cried out in surprise as Michael's fingers dug deeply into her arm.

"Hey!"

Coco yelled, before Michael turned, nostrils flaring as turned facing her.

"Word to the wise, keep your hands to yourself. You ever touch or so much as look in my wife's direction I'll make sure I'll break every bone in your arm. Understood?"

Coco stared at him with wide frightened eyes before nodding. Mallory glanced over and saw Ms. Venable seemed embarrassed and was staring down at the floor. Michael released Coco's arm, as she stumbled back, holding herself, her arm all ready beginning to turn an ugly shade of red. Mallory knew there would be fingermarks that would turn into ugly bruises by tomorrow. Coco seemed on the verge of tears before hurrying away, heels clicking. Michael smirked watching her, before he turned his attention to Ms. Venable.

"Our room please?"

Mallory watched as Ms. Venable led the two of them up the back stairwell. All the meanwhile, for just a fraction of a second she caught Regan's eyes and could have sworn there were tears in them.

**Later...**

"We won't be long, a few days at best. Ms. Mead will carry on the plan with that fool Ms. Venable, and we'll be able to move onto the next outpost."

He stood behind her before reaching around and unbuttoning the buttons of her peacoat, his slender fingers working quickly before the coat opened, revealing her black loose fitting blouse, that exposed her perfectly round pregnant stomach much clearer beneath. Taking the coat, Michael folded it over his arm before tossing it to the chair behind him without so much as a second thought. The fireplace was lit, casting dim shadows around the room as the flames flickered and crackled. Regan blankly stared ahead, as Michael smirked and nuzzled her neck. Tracing light kisses against the nape of her neck, he played with the strands that framed her face, before reaching around and placing both of his palms against her swollen stomach. Firmly placing his palms against her stomach, the faint dull kicks of their child fluttered.

Chuckling softly, he sighed before placing his chin on his shoulder.

"Just stay in here and only leave when I'm with you. I'll make sure you two are safe, and we'll collect Ms. Mead and leave this tomb to be forgotten..."

Michael had insisted she come with him, only after the doctor from the last outpost had guaranteed a newly made injection would prevent any effects of radiation. Michael wouldn't make the journey without his beloved wife, but wanted to be certain that herself, as well as their unborn child wouldn't be harmed. He casted a spell of protection around them, and had closely watched her, never allowing her to leave his sight.

This was their last stop, and everything was falling into place. He supposed she now truly saw who he was, despite their shared years together as he slowly rose to his legacy. He knew the night their child was conceived he had lost control, and since then...she seemed almost half there.

Still, besides Ms. Mead, she was the most important person in his life. The original Ms. Mead, and the warlocks had arranged it all. She was chosen to be his bride, and bare his heir. The only thing that frightened him was that what had happened to his birth mother would happen to her. No, he forbid it. He had prayed to his father, making a deal that no matter what happened, his child wouldn't kill his soulmate was it ripped itself into this world. He knew Regan was weak, but she was protected. A single tear rolled down Regan's face as she stared ahead as Michael began franticly kissing her neck and shoulder blades. His hands roamed up and down, rubbing her stomach where his seed deeply grew, cupping her swollen breasts, and slowly lifting her blouse.

In seconds it was off, and he snapped open her bra, before forcing her to turn. She swayed again, almost as if she was drugged. He took in her naked form, and like an eager child, licked his lips, before he backed her up, placing his hands onto her bare shoulder blades, and forced her to sit on the edge of the bed. He laid her back, before he ran his tongue over the swollen tight skin of the curve of her stomach. His long red hair swept over her breasts, before he half straddled her, making sure he wasn't laying any weight down. He unbuttoned her leather pants, and began to yank them off, before he stood before her and smiled.

Just like that his once brilliant blue eyes turned black.


	2. Chapter 2

**2016 **

Ms. Mead strolled down the sidewalk of the neighborhood, arm in arm with Michael. That's when she stopped and nudged him.

"There she is..."

Michael raised an eyebrow.

"Who?"

Ms. Mead motioned with her head to a ranch style house, in which a beaten up jeep sat in the driveway and killed its engine. Just then the driver's door opened, and out stepped a girl. She was young, early twenties at most. She wore a plaid skirt, flats, and a long sleeve ruffled blouse. Her dirty blond hair was in a loose ponytail, and the second she climbed out of the car Michael felt something he had never felt before. His heart seemed to skip a beat, as his stomach made a strange fluttering feeling as a foreign tingling traveled down between his legs. Mentally he was still just a child, but he knew due to his father's magic, he wasn't any ordinary human. No, he had aged years over night, and he felt himself still growing. Physically he guessed he was in his early twenties himself. He was still confused as well as curious on his purpose, as well as his own body. Ms. Mead had snuck him away for the weekend from the warlocks, and he was enjoying a little break away from all of the politics and watchful eyes. Ms. Mead had a plan over the seven wonders coming up, and he suspected that maybe this course of action was right. Maybe magic was indeed the right way on following his father's plan, which secretly terrified him since he didn't know what this plan really was.

So he spend these two days away from it all with the one woman he truly believed loved him. His own mother, a spirit had tried to kill him, and his grandmother had been furious with him, not understanding why he did the things he did and ended up kicking him out before ending her own life. For a brief period of time he truly believed he was a monster, and maybe ending his own life might be the best course of action. Then Ms. Mead and the others found him, and truly helped him see who he was, and what his birthright was. Since then there was the arrest, the warlocks discovering him, and them building him up to be the next Supreme. Ms. Mead had led him through this all, and somehow as scary as the unknown future was, he felt safe whenever he was around her. She was his mother and grandmother all wrapped up into one. She loved him, and believed in him.

Whatever she said, he did and so far everything was going according to plan. Michael's blue stormy eyes flickered as he found himself smiling, watching the girl open the backseat and grab two brown paper bags from the farmer's market downtown. He watched her, his eyes climbing up her slender frame, especially her legs. Ms. Mead leaned in close and whispered...

"That's Regan Hawthorn, she works at the library downtown. She's pretty isn't she?"

Michael watched her and suddenly everything seemed to go into slow motion. He smirked before speaking slowly, still not taking her eyes off her.

"Yeah...she is..."

He watched as she lifted her leg slightly and kicked the back door closed before slowly making her way up the path towards the front steps. Before she climbed them, the front door to the house suddenly slammed open. The girl froze, still clutching the bags and out marched out a middle aged man, smoking a cigarette and holding a can of beer.

"Where the fuck have you been?!"

Michael tensed, but Ms. Mead squeezed his arm. He didn't hear what the girl said, but it sounded like some sort of apology about having to pick up another shift and then swinging by the market. Her voice was soft, but nervous sounding. The man shot her a look before chugging the last of his beer, crushing the can and throwing it at her. The can hit the girl's legs and she jumped back slightly, before Michael went to move forward, but Ms. Mead held him firmly in place. In just a matter of seconds, the man marched down the steps before his arm shot out, grabbing the girl's arm, causing one of the bags to fall to the pavement, a bag of oranges rolling out and the faint sound of jars shattering.

The girl cried out, trying to apologize again before the man called her a fucking bitch and roughly yanked her up the steps and dragging her inside, slamming the door behind them, Michael's eyes widened staring at the house. Ms. Mead shook her head.

"Poor dear, her mother died years ago leaving her to take care of that drunken asshole of a father. He treats her like a slave and beats the holy Hell out of her. I've seen the police here a few times but he's buddies with all of them. Poor thing I think is absolutely terrified of him. Only a matter of time before that bastard beats her to death."

Michael turned towards Ms. Mead with panic flicking in his eyes. Ms. Mead smiled.

"I think she'll do don't you?"

Michael's eyes drifted back to the house, concerned and so badly wanting to run over and help this stranger. Confused, he raised an eyebrow before turning towards her.

"What?"

"The son of Satan needs a bride...a wife to stand by his side during the end of times and bare his heir. We can make her yours...you would like that, wouldn't you?"

Michael slowly tore his eyes away from the house again and locked with Ms. Mead's twinkling ones. More than a little scared, he nodded. Ms. Mead laughed, and squeezed his arm.

"Then we'll claim what's yours. She's lovely and will serve her purpose well."

Michael looked back at the house, before almost in a trance began to walk towards the front lawn. In less than a minute he was standing in front of the front steps. He stared down at the scattered groceries, before slowly reaching down and picking up an orange. Holding it, he glared down at it before staring at the closed front door. Ms. Mead was now by his side, smiling and staring up at the house with him.

"Claim what is yours Michael."

Slowly Michael nodded before his hand curled into a tight fist, squeezing the orange, squirting juices down his tightly closed fist as he continued staring up at the house with anger flickering in his eyes.

**That night...**

Regan screamed, her lip split and bleeding, one eye completely swollen shut, and at least half of her ribs broken. Her father had really lost it tonight when he first started on her about being late to fix him dinner. When she tried to explain that she had been offered to take an extra shift and knew they needed the money since bills were piling up, he had lost it. First he dragged her inside, calling her the same names he always called her whenever he got worked up. He had always been a pretty unpleasant person, distant, angry, and always ready to snap. It wasn't until her mother died six years ago that things fell apart. She was still in school and one phone call changed everything. Her mother had been involved in a car accident. After the funeral her father had guilted her into taking the remainder of the semester off and move back home to help him. Devastated over losing her mother, who had protected her from her father, and had been the complete and polar opposite, sweet, kind, generous, and her best friend. Not even being allowed to grieve her mother, she was thrown into not only becoming her father's maid, cook, and caretaker, but his human punching bag. The abusive started as she finished school online, balancing keeping the house up, and taking care of her father's every need.

She worked as hard as she could, and ended up getting a job at the library. Her father forced her to stop taking classes, and complained that her little job paid shit even though he was on social security and hadn't worked in years. He sat around watching TV all time or drinking at the bar down the street. He first started verbally abusing Regan. It started with little remarks, to finally picking on her constantly. He name called her, a bitch, a cunt, a whore if she ever tried having any social life even though she hadn't gone on any dates since her mother's funeral. He remarked over how she dressed, complained that she was too mousy, and plain looking. He would complain about whatever she fixed for dinner, no matter how much time she spent it was never good enough. The house even though it was spotless was never clean enough, and he called her dumb and useless. He slammed doors, threw things, went into drunken rages, and complained that he wished she had died instead of his wife. He lost his temper so often, and so started the slaps, the punches, and the shoves. She so badly wanted to tell someone, but last year when he threw her down the back steps all became she had forgotten to dust the mantelpiece, she found herself tumbling down the back cement stairs, and that night as much as it scared her, she called the police.

They sent a cruiser out, and low and behold it ended up being a couple of her father's buddies who he drank. He brushed it off that she had simply fell down the back steps and was being emotional due to "Boy troubles" The men laughed and went on their way, and afterwards he hurt her so badly he threatened that the next time she tried to tell someone he would rape her. The scary thing was...she believed him. So she lived every day in fear. Careful at every step, constantly walking on eggs shells. She cooked, cleaned, ran errands, did every single thing. She worked, kept to herself, and the few hours of peace she had was reading in her bedroom, usually with an ice pack on whatever arm her father decided to grab or yank. She thought of killing herself, but the idea that there might be an afterlife, maybe not Heaven...but someplace peaceful. Someplace she believed her mother was, far away from the bastard she had sadly been too stupid in getting married to. The thought of never seeing her again broke her heart. Still, she figured there couldn't be a Hell...

She was living in it right now.

The sad simple truth was, for being only twenty-three...she was exhausted. Her father had been screaming, smashing things around the house, including her mother's beautiful Carnival glass vase she loved. He was mocking her, teasing her and pretending to cry. He was slowly following her as she weakly crawled across the floor. He had another beer in his hand, and was laughing kicking her in her sore ribs, enjoying her yips of pain. All because she was a half an hour late... She reminded herself if he didn't kill her, or hurt her too badly she would have to pick up her bag that fell outside, as well as take out the trash, fix him dinner, do the dishes... Her thoughts were cut off with a swift kick to her side, spending white lighting bolts across her vision. She snapped her eyes shut, crying out as she wrapped her arms around herself, turning over slightly, too weak to beg for him to stop as his steel toe workbook kicked her again, and again, and again... He kicked her again, this time catching the top of her temple, this blow nearly knocking her out. She felt an awful echo of pain as sounds seemed to loudly buzz.

A film was blood trickled into her left eye, causing everything to look as if a veil of red had been casted onto everything. She swayed on the ground, tasting her own blood as she stared up at him, no longer feeling any more fight left in her. That's when it happened... He was standing before her, holding his beer, sweating slightly, and grinning down at her.

Then...

A young man with the most beautiful red hair she had ever seen walk up behind him. For a fraction of a second she couldn't quite understand what this stranger was doing here? Did he walk in? Was the front door unlocked? Who was he? He stood directly behind her father, his light blue eyes glaring before his handsome face crumpled as he thrusted his arm, and Regan's eyes widened as his hand burst through her father's chest. Instantly her father froze, dropping the beer with a heavy clang. His eyes widened in surprise, as Regan blinked, again blood tricking her vision. There was no way she was seeing right... He was holding her father's heart, a red ugly torn up muscle with thick dripping blood. Her father slightly turned his head and looked at the stranger, before blood gurgled between his lips and he fell with a heavy thud onto the ground. A huge bloody hole now in his chest, all the way towards his back.

He landed less than a foot away from Regan, as she stared at him. She had only seen this sort of stuff in the movies, there was no way this could have been real. No, this was some graphic fantasy. He had kicked her so badly, she had imagined this... No, a man couldn't punch a hole through someone and rip out their heart. Impossible... She swayed slightly, staring up, blinking the blood out of her eyes, catching with her long thick lashes. Instead, she waited, and somehow knew...this was really happening. Frightened, she looked up at him. The young man smiled and simply opened his open hand, the one that wasn't holding her father's heart, and gently closed his long slender fingers.

Just like that, in a mere second she found her vision clear, blood no longer running in her eye. Her ribs magically healed. Her face, her lip, her eye...all healed.

She could see clearly, and as she breathed she didn't feel fire. No, she sat unmarked somehow, sitting right beside her father's corpse. He smiled staring down at her and suddenly she felt as if these eyes of his were two deep oceans she could find herself becoming lost in. She stared up at him before he dropped her father's heart and it landed beside him with a sickening wet splat. He offered her his clean hand, and continued to smile.

"It's okay...you're safe now."

Regan blinked, feeling both stunned and confused.

"Who...are you?"

Michael smiled as he reached down and took her hand. His skin cool, dry, and firm. He grasped her hand, and pulled her up to her feet. She went to glance down at her father's corpse, but magically his other hand which should have been blood stained, was now clean. It gently touched the side of her face. He forced her to look him in the eye. Instantly she felt everyone become still as she locked eyes with his. He smiled.

"I'm your guardian angel."

With that he smiled and Regan suddenly felt lost.

**Present...**

Michael was stripped down naked, his thin yet muscular body laid taunt between Regan's spread legs as she laid on the King sized bed in their private room at Outpost 3. The fireplace continued to flicker, casting dim light across the room. He had Regan's arms above her head near the pillows, both roughly grasping her wrists, pinning her down as his long sweeping red hair pooled down around them almost acting like a curtain. He was focused as he stared ahead, concentrated, as he stared ahead at the headboard. This position was awkward, even at this stage in her pregnancy since her stomach was growing larger by the day, and it was clearly only a matter of time before their growing child would prevent him from being on top. Still, he laid between her legs, his flat stomach against the gentle curve of hers. His ass tensed and pumped as he began thrusting into her in easy steady drives. Each thrust she stiffened, head turned to the side, cloudy eyes staring to the side at the fire, catching the reflection like glass. He carefully watched her as he stared down, waiting for any reaction whatsoever.

Instead, she laid there like a dead fish, like a corpse. She had been this way for some time now, and as much as it worried him, he knew if he continued protecting her like he had she would finally snap out of it. He knew the night he had conceived their son his father had come through and he had lost control raping her. For the first time ever he had harmed her as the beast within appeared. He still remembered the cries and struggled beneath him as his eyes rolled backwards turning black as he moaned as she screamed seeing the real him. Still, he would get her back, he knew he could. He grunted, hair sweeping down as he leaned down, firmly pressing his forehead against hers. He felt his penis drive up inside of her, right up to the womb where his son was safely sleeping. He round a rhythm, and began thrusting away at a frighting rate. The bed loudly creaked beneath them, as he bucked his hips, and released her wrists. He let one hand go down to one of her full breasts and cupped it as he licked the side of her face and moaned.

Slowly his hand went down and his palm placed firmly against the tight skin of her stomach. Beneath, he swiftly felt a series of fluttering kicks from within.

His heir...his son... He bit down on his bottom lip, grunting before suddenly he felt himself empty out, climaxing roughly as long ropey strings of his own cum filled her, and dripped down. He gave a weak thrust, finishing, before collapsing. Regan laid there, showing no emotion at all. Taking deep breaths, he allowed himself a moment to relax before lifting his head. His hair was a mess, and sweat lightly rolled off his forehead. He chuckled lightly, before using his hand to turn her face upward to face him.

"Our son, he wants out...feel?"

He reached and grabbed her hand, gently placing it on her own stomach, before covering it with his much larger one. He pressed her hand down, as another series of fluttering kicks came from within her. He saw a flicker in her eyes, and he smiled, laughing, enjoying this moment alone with her.

"Feel him?"

She slowly nodded as he smiled and carefully pulled out of her. He saw the mess he had made, and figured he would run them both a nice hot bath afterwards. Until then, he just waited to lay and relax with his wife, feeling his baby, and ignoring all this nonsense before having to deal with these fools. The bed smelled of sex and sweat. Michael knew this couldn't have done much for her, but had grand ideas on how to make that same lingering trapped flicker of light appear more often behind her beautiful eyes. He laid beside her, his naked body against her before he nudged her to turn, her back pressed firmly against his chest. He gathered her up in his arms, before he wrapped his long arms around her, and placed them on her round belly. The baby continued to kick, moving around. Michael thought for just a fraction of a second he felt what appeared to be a tiny little foot. He knew this baby was active, and more than likely hurting Regan with her thin frame. Still, he never found nothing more rewarding than feeling the life he had created and placed inside of her. He shook some more of his hair back, before placing his hands firmly against her stomach, almost pressing in.

"He's quite the active one isn't he?"

Regan didn't respond. He kissed her earlobe and spoke again.

"Are you uncomfortable love?"

Regan softly sighed and shook her head.

"Just a little. He moves mostly whenever you speak or touch me...it's almost as if he..."

"Knows I'm his father..."

Michael said with a smile curving up over his face. He leaned over, kissing her neck.

"Can I get you anything darling?"

"No, I'm fine...I'm just tired."

"Are you sure?"

Regan nodded, staring ahead before Michael sighed, hiking himself up slightly on one elbow, and looking down over his wife's naked body. He knew it was going to take a lot of work to get her completely back to him, but he knew he had the time. Ms. Mead would be back with them soon, and they would leave. Laying her head back down against hers, he deeply sighed before shutting his eyes, allowing himself to drift off, exhausted from the journey as well as enjoying his wife's body yet again. As always whenever the sex was good, he easily slipped off into a fast thick slumber. Regan laid being held tightly against her husband, feeling his soft hair draped over her, as she listened to his breathing. Staring ahead, her eyes looked both a mixture of sadness, as well as complete and utter terror. Kicking up a storm inside of her was a ticking time bomb that she knew...would indeed kill her.

**Later...**

"No!"

Michael snapped awake, eyes widen and frightened, hair a mess as it took him a second to gather his surrounding and focus on where exactly he was. He shot up straight, sheets pooled around his waist as his bare chest heaved. Looking around, his eyes were frantic and scared like a child. Regan was awake, dressed in her plum silk robe she had packed, which was showing her baby bump off perfectly as it stuck out of her thin small frame. Her hair was pinned up, as she sat on the edge of the bed beside him. Michael stared at her, as she turned and stared at him. She raised an eyebrow, looking both half awake, as well as confused.

"Michael?"

Before she could say another word he grabbed her body, squeezing her tight, but still being careful around her bump. Burying his face against her shoulder, he shook all over, unable to control his trembling. Regan very slowly, as if on autopilot, reached up, and gently rubbed his back.

"You were dreaming...what was it?"

Michael held back tears, as he held her tight, before pulling back, eyes still frantic as he stared down at her stomach. Instantly he reached down, touching her stomach, before his hand went down between her legs. Regan jumped slightly, as he lifted his hand back, closely staring at it in the dim light from the fire, looking for any signs of blood. Not finding any, he sighed, and reached down, cupping her stomach again. Instantly his face crumped.

"Why isn't he moving?!"

He whined like a young child. Confused, Regan pulled back.

"Michael? What?"

Michael shook his head, his hair falling into his face as he leaned down, pressing his ear against her stomach, holding back from completely losing it. He listened, before he felt the faint kick. Closing his eyes, almost crying out in relief, he sat up and felt her stomach again. Have felt his baby shift, before he loudly sighed, and stared at her, tears glimmering in his eyes.

"I had a terrible nightmare...about you and the baby..."

Regan stared at him confused, before he gathered her tightly in his arms, and held her against his trembling body. Kissing the top of his head, he tried calming himself down as he stared ahead at the fireplace. The truth was, he was frightened that this wasn't just one of his regular nightmares about Regan or the baby.

No, this felt much more real. Like a vision. He fought every urge inside of him from picking his bride up, and leaving this place. Something was coming, he sensed it.

**Reviews are welcome! Can't wait to continue. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Before...**

Michael had fixed everything. He helped Regan take the few belongings she wanted out of the house, and packed them up. Regan had been frightened, but worked silently as he instructed her on what to do, and in total she had packed two suitcases, and one duffle bag. She only had a few faded photographs of her mother, the ones she had lucky enough in hiding under her mattress from her father who in a jealous rage tore most of them up and threw them in the fire. She packed her clothing, some important paperwork, a few pieces of costume jewelry she had gotten from yard sales, a few of her torn favorite old books, maybe under two hundred dollars in cash she had hidden, and finally when Michael wasn't looking her father's old buck knife. Once everything she was packed, she walked to the living room where Michael as waiting. He was handsome, in fact one of the best looking guys she had ever laid eyes on. He had fair skin, greenish blue eyes, and light faded red hair. He wore black from head to toe, and boots. She carefully put her bags down, looking at the sunlight pour in through the closed curtains of her living room. Her eyes scanning it, she could barley remember any happy memories she had shared with her mother here.

Instead, vivid images of her father beating her, screaming at her, and yanking her by the hair so roughly chunks of her hair would fall out later that night with blood. She then raised an eyebrow confused as she tried to find where her father's body was. Just ten minutes ago it had been laying in a massive pool of blood with his torn out heart laying beside him. She figured she was in shock. It hadn't fully registered that he was dead. Something she had prayed for, now was a reality. No, not possible. This beautiful man hadn't appeared about of nowhere, rip her father's heart out, and then heal her. No, it wasn't possible...

She figured any second she would snap awake at any second by the sounds of her father screaming at her to wake up. That this was all some strange, yet beautiful dream. Instead, she looked around the hardwood floor for any sign of her father or so much as a drop of blood.

Instead...nothing. She stood there, confused.

"Where's...my father?"

Michael turned and smiled, walking over to her, boots clicking.

"I fixed things..."

He held up a letter that somehow was written in her father's handwriting. Suddenly he opened his mouth and magically her father's awful voice escaped, as if playing from a tape. He spoke in her in his voice, reading what the letter said.

_Regan,_

_I cleaned out the bank accounts and I'm fucking leaving this shit hole once and for all. You have been nothing but useless and a complete disappointment to me. You can do whatever the fuck you want with this house. Best of luck kid. Headed down to Florida. - Dad_

Regan blinked confused.

"What?"

Michael smiled, folding the letter and cocking his head to the side.

"I have the power to make his body disappear. I also have casted a spell for the bank workers to believe they had seen your father earlier today clean out the accounts if anyone should ask. Ms. Mead, my friend will arrange in a few weeks to put the house into foreclosure. You won't ever need to think about money, or ever being harmed again. I'll protect you."

Regan blinked, feeling hypnotized staring at him. Sighing, she nervously wrung her hands together.

"This doesn't make sense...you killed my dad..."

"Who would have killed you. Ms. Mead live sin this neighborhood and told me she's been watching you for quite some time. She told me about the abuse. It's been happening ever since you lost your mother...but nobody believed you...or cared."

Regan felt tears start to fill her big brown doe shaped eyes. She sniffled before nodding.

"I..."

Michael shook his head before calmly reaching over, and used his thumb to wipe a single tear that had escaped and began to run down her pale face.

"It's okay. You're safe now."

Regan continued staring at him, now completely swallowed up in his eyes. Michael smiled at her.

"I've been alone for so long...Ms. Mead said you can change that for me. It's been promised."

Regan raised an eyebrow.

"Promised? Who promised?"

Michael smirked staring at her.

"My father of course."

Regan opened her mouth to say something, but instead shut it. She continued staring at him, before sighing.

"You're magic?"

"Oh...I'm so much more. You'll see."

Regan continued staring at him, before Michael lent out his hand and turned it over. Regan stared at it for a second, hesitating before slowly taking it. His much larger hand swallowed hers up, and firmly squeezed.

"Let's go."

Regan stared up at him.

"Where?"

Michael smiled.

"Home."

**Present...**

Michael knew he needed to begin the interviews in a few hours. Since his vivid nightmares he felt extremely on edge. He had drawn a steaming hot bath, and led Regan into the private bathroom that was connected to their quarters. Candles were lit, casting the same dim glow in this cold hollow looking room. He had led Regan into it, sitting her on the bench as he drew the bath completely naked. He felt the water with his hand, testing it before he filled the entire tub. Turning, he walked to Regan before he took her hands gently and pulled her to her feet. Smiling, he gently lifted her chin with his finger. She slowly lifted her eyes, before they locked with her husband's. Less than twenty minutes later now, both laid beneath the steaming hot relaxing water. Michael laid with Regan laying in front of him against him. Her back laying against his chest and between his two legs. He had carefully washed her up, humming lightly. Only the ends of his hair were wet, as his hands were planted firmly on her swollen round stomach beneath the water.

He faintly felt a few times the shift and movement of his son within her. He knew with each beat of his wife's heart, his son grew stronger. Ms. Mead had told him an heir would come after the apocalypse. He thought back shortly after he lost Ms. Mead, what had happened with the first baby. Visions of his poor darling Regan crying in agony as he so desperately tried to stop it from happening. He remembered the blood, and how badly he had tried to stop it from happening, but that bitch Cordelia stopped him. He had nearly lost his wife losing their first child. He wouldn't allow that to happen. Whatever small faint part of him that was still human knew what he had done to her months ago at their outpost. He felt the surging power of his father come through that evening. She had tried to reason with him, but he had lost control as the darkness washed through him. He remembered the cries and screamed. The struggles, and how his eyes had rolled back turning black as he tore her clothes apart, forcing her legs open and pinned her down. Now all these months later, the result of that night was growing safely in her womb. He sensed she had discovered that night what he truly was, and he had lost a good part of her. Instead, he focused on continuing with the plan.

It was a whole new world, and he was planning on ruling it with Regan by his side. He would get her back, prove to her that this was the only way, and he would reign both on Earth and in Hell as she cradled their son in her arms.

"What did you dream?"

Michael raised an eyebrow hearing her speak. Laying behind her, he gently pressed his fingers against the tight skin of her stomach, so badly wanted to feel his baby move again and give him comfort. This was his family, and he swore to his father he wouldn't allow them to be harmed. Michael sighed before leaning down and kissing her bare shoulder.

"It was nothing darling..."

Regan turned slightly, staring up at him. For a mere moment he saw the real Regan there. Not the traumatized empty shell that had been carrying his child. No, this was the beautiful young woman who he had saved, and latched onto loving so much it actually hurt. She had believed in him, and after he truly believed he had lost everything, he still had her to take care of. Looking at her, his brow wrinkled slightly before he sighed and knew he couldn't lie to her.

"I had a dream...you were laying on the floor to the library here. You were screaming in pain, and there was blood pooling underneath you. I ran to you, but you were crying and said you were having a miscarriage. I then heard what sounded like howling wind, and when I looked back down you were gone...and..."

His words trailed off, as his hands gently wrapped around her stomach. Sighing, he decided to just finish it.

"There was our baby, covered in blood and afterbirth, the cord still attached. You weren't anywhere to be found...but he was laying there lifeless. I tried picking him up but there was just so much blood. He wasn't breathing...I couldn't..."

He bowed his head, hair pooling around him as he began to shake. Regan stared blankly ahead, before Michael wrapped his arms around her, and took a deep breath. Shaking his head, he lifted one of his hands and pinched her jawline with his thumb and pointer finger. Turning her to face him, he stared at her with serious intense eyes.

"We'll be out of here in less than two days. You will not leave these quarters unless I'm with you. I think my father may have been trying to warn me with that vision..."

"Michael...it was just a..."

Before she could finish, his eyes narrowed, as he pinched her face tighter and glared.

"You will lay in bed and not get up unless I say so. The journey back to the sanctuary is a week tops. We'll have Ms. Mead, but I want to make completely sure you are safe until we get you to the doctor. You won't even get up to use the bathroom. I'll have one of the gray servants to bring you in a chamber pot. I'll bring you your meals, and under no circumstances will you speak to anyone or get up for this bed."

"Michael..."

Michael's eyes flickered and for a brief second she saw the darkness she had seen the night this child was conceived. Her own eyes widened in fear, before Michael's eyes returned to normal.

"That is my son, and I'm telling you...rest. I'll be gone for a few hours tops. I need to play a few tricks in weeding out who deserves to be saved. I may return back her later, perhaps with one of these fools, but you will say nor do nothing. You're job to is rest and follow my instructions until we can leave this Godforsaken place."

"You aren't taking any of them with us are you...only Ms. Mead?"

Michael released her face, leaving faint red marks before he smirked.

"Very good."

Michael gazed at her, before tilting his head and softly opening his mouth against hers. Their mouths met, before he gently flicked his tongue against hers. Closing his eyes, he moaned slightly, before his hand slowly snaked underneath the warm water and found the opening between her legs beneath the swell of her stomach. Cupping it, he used his thumb to slowly make even circular motions over her clit, closely watching her as she closed her eyes, biting down on her lip, trying everything within her power not to cry out. Loving this control, he continued to masturbate his wife, before he make his finger begin a come hither motion as his pointer entered her warm tight opening, before his middle enter joined, slowly thrusting in and out of her. Regan was building close, breathing heavy, before she laid her head back against him, squirming beneath the water and climaxed.

Watching her, Michael smiled enjoying this power over her, before he ran his tongue down the side of her face.

**Later...**

Michael carried Regan like a groom would to his bride back to the bedroom. He had dried her off with himself after the bath, dressed her back in her robe, before slipping into a pair of dark dress slacks himself. Bare chested, he carried her towards the bed, the fireplace still crackling across the room. Laying her down carefully, he turned away towards the desk where his laptop was, and dug around for something. After a minute he turned back around with a filled syringe. Regan stared at him as he approached her.

"What's that?"

Since the end of the world Michael seemed to have an endless supply of drugs and injections. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he focused, before using his other hand to gently tap her wrist, before injecting her with the needle. It stung for just a second, before, he leaned down, kissing the tender area where the needle had gone in.

"Just something to make sure you sleep. I need to focus doing these interviews, and I can't be worrying that you're up and walking around. Don't worry it won't hurt the baby. I've given this to you before..."

Regan sighed, she hated being drugged. Here she was, yet again property, being controlled all because of this evil spawn she was carrying inside of her. Sighing, she could all ready feel the affects of it taking hold. Suddenly she felt soupy, and her eyelids felt extremely heavy. She stared up at her husband, and felt so exhausted...

"Why even do the interviews if you're..."

He gently placed his finger against her lips.

"Everything has a purpose my dear. Now you focus on resting..."

He smiled, before looking down at her stomach. Suddenly the love in his eyes not only looked overwhelming, but dangerous as well. He leaned down, before carefuly opening her robe. Looking at her swollen stomach, her bellybutton looking painful with it sticking out. Smiling, he swept his fingers over it, when suddenly he froze. He took a second staring down, before he placed his palm open against her. Right away she knew what as going to happen and controlled from rolling her eyes.

Michael stared at her stomach focused, when suddenly his eyes narrowed again and glared.

"Why isn't he fucking moving?!"

He placed his other hand on her stomach and gave her a gentle shake. Regan watched, laying back against the pillows and silk sheets as her husband became yet again mentally unhinged. He gave her belly a shake again, before Regan scooted up a bit and shot him a look.

"He's sleeping Michael. Jesus I'm not a snow globe, leave him be."

Michael glared at her.

"I want to feel my son..."

"Our son."

He stared and she knew she was testing him. He might lash out, but he would never hurt her. She knew he was crazy about her, so crazy...here she was, the bride to the son of Satan, still trapped, and fooled into falling for him, and now carrying his child. It was too late now... Regan sighed, the affects of the drugs starting to really take hold. She nearly nodded off twice, before she slowly and weakly shook her head.

"Maybe whatever you gave me...maybe it's making both of us sleep. Michael...nothing is wrong, please..."

She tried to reach up and cup the side of his face, but Michael flinched away, pulling back and shaking his head. Like some spoiled child, she saw tears of anger in his eyes, before he continued to shake his head.

"No, no...no...the cord is wrapped around his neck. He can't breath...he needs to come out..."

Before he could finish, she felt the baby move, shifting and pressing against her bladder as a small kick fluttered from within. Michael bowed his head, sighing loudly with relief. Giving a shaken, nervous laugh, he leaned down planting a sweet kiss against her stomach. Sighing, he lifted his head, and tossed back a strand of his hair from his face.

"That's my sweet boy...good..."

He lovingly stroked her stomach, when Regan sighed.

"You say you will do anything to save me so I don't die like your mother...yet I have a feeling you would cut me up without so much as a second thought to get your son if you thought something was wrong."

Michael said nothing and just stared, before Regan sighed and turned over, putting her back to him. Glaring, Michael knew he needed to calm down. He wished he could just explain to her the fear that had been building. Instead, he simply shook his head, grabbed the throw and covered Regan up with it. Brushing some of her hair away, he shook his head, before getting up and finishing dressing, all the meanwhile watching his wife beneath the blanket sleep, breathing peacefully in and out. He knew when she wasn't in a trace, the real her would sometimes break through. He sensed she still loved him, but was frightened. No matter how he tried to explain it, at the end of the day...he had forced himself on her, and that rape resulted in the baby he honestly would slaughter billions over. Buttoning his dress shirt, he finished before strolling over and staring down at her.

Hesitating, he stared down before he softly whispered...

"I love you..."

Unknown to him, Regan's eyes fluttered open hearing this, knowing that he meant it.

**Later...**

Emily and Timothy had snuck into Langdon's room after watching him leave. The second they saw his wife laying in bed they froze, before Emily gently took Timothy's arm and slowly shook her head.

"Shhhh...look..."

They carefully walked in, knowing if Langdon happened upon them in his quarters, alone with his pregnant wife he may every well kill both of them. Instead, Emily slowly walked over and looked down at his wife. She was pretty, her hair dirty blond, and deeply asleep beneath her the blanket. Emily stared at her, closely watching, and turned shaking her head.

"I think she's drugged or something..."

Timothy stayed close to the door and shook his head.

"Let's go..."

He whispered. Emily shook her head before very slowly and carefully touched the curve of her body beneath the blanket. Mrs. Langdon didn't stir. Instead, she continued sleeping. Motioning to her, Emily shrugged before Timothy sighed and followed her over to Langdon's laptop. Both hunched over, looking it over as Regan continued to sleep a dreamless sleep in the bed behind them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Before...**

Regan sat in shorts, and a faded black T-shirt in Ms. Mead's guest room. Michael had brought her over after leaving her home and introduced her. Before leaving her house, walking behind Michael who carried her bags, she turned and looked around one last time. Michael reassured her that everything with the house would be taken care of, and there wouldn't be any questions or problems with her father disappearing. After what she witnessed earlier, she actually believed him. Her whole life she wasn't exactly sure if she believed in anything for sure. She liked the vague idea there might be a Heaven, or perhaps something else when it came with her mother. This had been main reason that had prevented her for taking her own life after all these exhausting heartbreaking years of abuse. She now had witnessed her father's murder, as well as actual magic.

She had a strange feeling, a small voice screaming at her to run away. That something was wrong. Instead, almost in a trace, she followed Michael, and that afternoon met Mrs. Mead, who's first name was Jennifer, but said she preferred being called by her last name, and had welcomed Regan with open arms, a friendly smile, and a warm comforting hug.

"You're safe now darling."

Regan sighed, closing her eyes fighting back tears, before Ms. Mead pulled back and smiled, her dark eyes looking her up and down. Gently she reached up, and brushed a few fallen strands away from Regan's pale face.

"You certainly are lovely."

Michael watched from the doorway, anxious, as well as excited. Ms. Mead fixed Regan a cup of tea, and while she sat in the kitchen waiting, Michael sitting across from her, slightly making her feel nervous due to the fact he couldn't take his eyes off her. That's when Regan saw the black altar. She gulped, suddenly feeling very scared. Before she could so much as think another thought, Ms. Mead set down her steaming hot cup of tea, before taking a sit right beside her.

"Regan my dear. I'm sure you have questions...maybe questions, and we're here to answer them as best as we can."

Regan sighed, still glancing at the upside down crosses before looking back at Ms. Mead.

"Do you worship the devil?"

Ms. Mead glanced across at Michael, and suddenly both burst out laughing. Regan was taken aback as she sat at the table, watching them laugh so hard tears filled their eyes. Once the laughter died down, Ms. Mead wiped her eyes, sighing and shaking her head smiling.

"Oh my sweet child. You are sitting across from the antichrist, the one and only son of Satan."

She motioned to Michael who blushed slightly blushed and smiled at Regan. Staring at him confused, she looked back at Ms. Mead.

"What?"

Ms. Mead smiled sitting forward.

"I'm sure today you saw things you didn't think were possible. Now, there's no hiding the fact that your father was one mean son of a bitch. He abused you for far too long and tell me something Regan? Have you ever prayed to God to make it stop? For any time of help, or for him to die or for somebody to believe you?"

Regan stared at her, fighting back tears before nodding.

"Sometimes."

Ms. Mead nodded.

"So tell me. Were you're prayers ever answered?"

Regan opened her mouth to answer before she closed her mouth, at a complete loss of words. Ms. Mead glanced in Michael's direction before looking back at her.

"I figured. Today, Michael came and saved you. He took care of that psychopath who very well could have killed you, and has caused you more than enough pain for two lifetimes. Tell me something else Regan? It was becoming sexual wasn't it? You're a virgin aren't you?"

Regan's entire face flushed, turning burning hot as she stuttered for a second, and was too horrified to even look in Michael's direction. She suddenly became defensive as well as angry.

"I don't see how that's any of your business..."

Ms. Mead raised her hand, showing she meant no harm.

"I'm not here to embarrass my dear. We all know the answer, but I can see it in your eyes. He started with the inappropriate remarks and comments. Never knocking whenever you were in the shower. Making excuses to touch you. Last week you heard him come into your bedroom when he believed you were asleep, and you hear him touching himself. Had Michael not had saved you today, we all know he would have beaten you so badly before raping you on your living room floor. You reminded him of your mother, in every sense and in every way. He pretended he still had a wife, and wanted you. That's the world you were forced into and praying to God got you nowhere. Michael was foretold in the stars. I have sworn my entire life to follow and serve the prince of darkness. Remember Regan, Satan isn't some ugly horrible monster. No, he was God's most beautiful angel and he was cast out for loving his father too much. We aren't the monsters Regan. We are misunderstood. We were the ones to have saved you, and will swear to protect you. Every dream, every wish you have ever desired will become true. You were foreseen to be Michael's soulmate, his bride, and companion. Be faithful, and love Michael, and he will protect you and never allow anyone to ever harm you again."

Regan blinked, overwhelmed as well as confused. Tears filled her big brown eyes, before she scooted her chair back slightly and shook her head.

"No...this is crazy..."

Ms. Mead glanced at Michael who stared at her with pleading eyes. Raising his hand, with one slight motion of his hand, Regan felt some invisible force get him to sit back down as the chair magically slid back against the table. Feeling her heart race, she stared at them, before Ms. Mead reached across and took one of her hands, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"You are either with us or against us. Michael has joined a coven of warlocks..."

"Warlocks?!"

Ms. Mead smiled as she went on.

"We have a plan, and he is slowly rising to power. He can promise protection, as well as unconditional love."

Regan blinked, feeling tears roll down her face.

"What...what...if I say no?"

Ms. Mead's eyes narrowed as she glared.

"Then you are against us, and in just a few brief years as Michael rules the world, you will be trapped in a personal Hell...show her Michael."

Regan saw Michael hesitate, staring at her.

"Ms. Mead please..."

"Now."

She sternly snapped. Sighing, Michael stared at Regan, apologizing without so much as opening his mouth. Sighing deeply, he reached across and suddenly grasped Regan's hand. In a flash of a second, suddenly Regan saw a blinding white light and saw the vision. She stood back, now returned back to her house. She stood there frozen, watching herself getting raped over and over by her father on her sofa. Her face a bleeding ruined mess. She watched as it repeated over and over, before in another flash, she found herself now being the one on the sofa, broken bones, swollen eyes, and tasting blood. She felt the horrible ripping pain of being raped as her sweating disgusting father wrapped his hands around her throat and squeezed. Regan struggled to breathe, weakly trying to push him off. She was hurt, humiliated, and dying... It happened over, and over, and over again.

It seemed to go on for a lifetime...

Then...

She snapped awake as Michael released her hand. Suddenly she nearly fell backwards in her chair. Eyes widening, sweating, and heart pounding, she screamed as she adjusted to reality, seeing she was gone from whatever nightmarish Hell that was, and back in Ms. Mead's kitchen. Feeling sick, she shook all over, before bursting out crying staring at Michael.

"What was that?!"

Michael eyes appeared heartbroken as he withdrew his hand as Ms. Mead turned towards her, looking her directly in the eye.

"That my dear is your personal Hell, that awaits you unless you agree to be Michael's bride. I can promise you that."

Regan sat back completely frozen, feeling the aftershocks of whatever that was. Sitting back, she truly didn't know what to say. Now tonight, she had used Ms. Mead's shower, scrubbing her skin so hard it had turned red and raw. She felt filthy even though whatever that was it had just been a "vision". She figured he very well might have used magic to trick her, but whatever that was that she had witnessed seemed so real. Her stomach was upset, and shortly after she finished speaking with Ms. Mead and Michael she had excused herself and violently vomited in her bathroom. She had declined dinner, and had asked if she could wash up. Ms. Mead had been sweet, and had said of course, giving her fresh towels, and said her bags were put in the guest room. Regan had washed up, taking her time before looking at her pale reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror, she wiped the glass before hanging her head and silently crying. She was trapped, but somehow believed in what she had seen. Maybe this truly was the only way? She had dried off, before changing into the shorts and T-shirt, making sure she wore a sports bra underneath, before walking back to the bedroom.

On her way there, Ms. Mead who was getting ready for bed stopped her in the hallway.

"If you get hungry darling, there's plenty of food in the kitchen, help yourself no matter what time. I'll make breakfast in the morning. I know this is all very overwhelming, but we'll talk and put your nerves to ease."

She gently patted her shoulder, before continuing walking down the hall. Regan raised an eyebrow, scared to death and glanced back over her shoulder before hurrying to the guest room. She stood there for a second, shutting the door behind her, before seeing her bags all lined up near the dresser. The guest room was plain, and showed absolutely no sign that devil worshipers lived here, let alone the "son of Satan". She felt sick before sitting on the edge of her bed, and tightly squeezed her hands together. She silently prayed to her mother to give her a sign, any sign to show that these people were not just insane, but dangerous as well. She waited, fighting back tears and a half an hour passed and nothing. Giving up, she let go of her hands which ached and simply stared ahead. That's when there was a knock on the door. Nervously she chewed her lip, thinking of just opening the window, sliding out and running.

Then she thought, where would she go? Instead, she sighed and cleared her throat before calling out...

"Come in."

The for creaked open, and Michael stood there wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants. He was barefoot, and his beautiful slightly curly red hair was pushed back. Instantly she stared at his pale flat stomach. Feeling strange, she drew in a deep breath. Michael stood in the doorway, his eyes looking so young, almost child like.

"Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

Regan slowly shook her head.

"No, I'm fine...thank you."

Michael sighed before entering, and shutting the door behind him. Regan tensed up, carefuly watching him as he walked over and sat down beside her. The scent of clean soap filled the air as his blue eyes looked at her.

"I'm sorry about earlier, but it was the only way to show you. Are you okay?"

Regan sighed, before putting her hands together again.

"What you showed me...was it another trick? Or was it true?"

Michael sighed.

"It's true. Trust me, I'm just as scared as you are. I swear...I'll never let anything happen to you ever again. I'll keep you safe."

Regan stared at him.

"You don't even know me..."

Michael shrugged.

"Besides Ms. Mead...I don't have any family. I guess we're sorta the same...we're orphans."

Regan stared at him, looking at him closely, unable to believe how truly handsome he was.

"Where's your parents...sorry...your mother."

Michael smirked.

"Well...that's a long story."

"Well...I'm a good listener."

Michael smiled staring at her, and somehow some unspoken truce settled upon the two of them.

**Later...**

They had talked for hours and Michael had told her everything. It seemed so impossible, but after what Regan had seen today she somehow knew it must have been true. She listened, before even talking a little bit about herself, mostly about her mother. Before they knew it, the clock on the nightstand read it was nearly one in the morning. Michael then stared at her, looking timid like a child.

"Can I sleep in here?"

Regan opened her mouth to say something before Michael shook her head.

"It's not like you think. I've never..."

His words trailed off, dropping his eyes embarrassed before he looked down at the floor.

"I just want to make sure you're okay. I'll protect you."

"Michael..."

"I'll sleep on the floor. Please..."

Sighing, Regan looked into his eager frightened young eyes, before she nodded.

"Okay, fine."

Michael smiled, lighting up before he stood and was ready to stretch out on the floor. Shaking her head, she pulled back the comforter.

"You can sleep here."

Michael looked stunned.

"You...sure?"

Regan nodded before staring up at him.

"I trust you...I can can't I?"

"Yes! Of course!"

Michael said quickly. In just a matter of seconds, Michael crawled into bed under the covers right beside Regan. Her back was facing him, as she settled against the soft pillows.

"Do...you want the light on?"

Michael asked. Regan sighed, she wanted to say yes, but instead shook her head staring ahead.

"No, turn it off."

She felt Michael's weight shift behind her, before he clicked the lamp ooff leaving it in complete darkness. In just a few seconds, she suddenly felt Michael's arms wrap around her tightly, pulling her backwards slightly right up against his chest. Regan at first wanted to stiffen, maybe even pull away. Instead, her eyes widened slightly, having never been this close to a guy before. Trying to keep her guard up, she was ready to say something before suddenly a strange feeling of complete and utter peace settled down around her. For the first time since her mother passed, she actually felt safe. Her father couldn't hurt her anymore. She listened to Michael breathing, staring ahead.

Usually she shifted and moved for hers before falling asleep. Instead, she felt suddenly exhausted as she let out a deep breath, and without even thinking, she reached down to Michael's hands, wrapped around her waist, and found one. It was now Michael's turn to stiffen behind her as she slipped her hand into his, feeling the size difference, as well as how smooth and cool feeling he was. She somehow felt safe, that this was right, and she had been waiting all her life for this to happen. Laying in the darkness, she held Michael's hand as he continued holding her, and quickly fell into a dreamless exhausted, and much needed slumber. Meanwhile Michael laid awake, feeling his heart begin to hammer in his chest.

He couldn't believe this had actually worked. She was laying in bed with him, and he had a gut feeling, in the morning she would agree to stay. Everything was slowly falling into place. They had found each other, and he suddenly felt the same strange tingling down below. He fought to keep it away, knowing how close she was laying against him. He was more than a little scared, but excited as well. He felt as if this was meant to be. Regan was wounded, and just as scared as he had been. He could push forward with the support of both her and Ms. Mead. They were his family, and tomorrow he wanted to ask Ms. Mead in private what she meant by Regan bearing his "heir". Smiling, he snuggled in closer to her, before closing his eyes, and slowly falling asleep.

**Present**

Regan's eyes slowly fluttered open as her vision cleared. In just a matter of seconds, she saw Michael sitting on the edge of the bed, watching over her, his long red hair, his black dinner jacket, and the faint color of red around his intense blue eyes. He was faintly smiling, before reaching down and gently brushing a few fallen strands of her hair away from her face. She tried to lift her head and look around this windowless room. The fire was still going, casting faint shadows around them. When she did try to sit up, she suddenly felt dizzy as Michael gently pushed her back down to rest. He gave her a reassuring smile, and continued to gently stroke the side of her face with his long slender fingers. His wedding band on among his other precious gems and rings he had received since he came into power. Gifts from his followers. Her own wedding ring, a gold band, and a sparkling black gem rested on her left hand To her since their baby was conceived she saw those rings more like handcuffs than anything else.

"How...long have I been out?"

"A day or so, don't worry I had the servants clean you up...I believe your body needed the rest. How do you feel?"

Regan blinked, feeling completely out of it. She rubbed her face with her hand and sighed.

"Really out of it..."

Michael nodded, before lovingly stroking her stomach. Instantly she saw something was wrong. Raising an eyebrow, she looked up at him.

"What is it?"

Michael stared sadly down at her stomach before shaking his head.

"The interviews have been going as planned, but my latest one...I don't know. I got...a strange feeling."

"Strange feeling?"

He nodded.

"Mallory, one of the grey servants...I felt something...powerful. She may be a threat."

Regan stared up.

"Like how?"

Michael shrugged.

"Not sure, but...she shouldn't be a problem much longer. The apples have arrived, and tonight is Halloween. Ms. Mead has all ready planted the seed of the idea to Ms. Venable, and before dawn we'll be leaving."

Regan sighed staring up at him.

"Does everyone really have to die. Some of these people seemed decent..."

"We're not looking for decent my love, we're looking for faithful subjects for our son one day to rule over. That's why we've been cleansing throughout the outposts. Trust me."

Regan laid back, before Michael traced his finger against her stomach.

"How's my beautiful boy?"

He laid his head against her stomach, pressing his ear against her before Regan absently ran her fingers through his smooth beautiful red hair and stared up at the ceiling.

**Later...**

Michael had refused the invitation to join the others for the "Halloween Ball". Instead he ordered one of the grays to bring Regan her dinner, before giving her a nice warm bath. He so desperately wanted to make love to her, but knew tonight wasn't the time. He sensed within the next few hours a great deal with be happening, and having his "Ms. Mead" back meant the world. She would be levelheaded throughout this all, and calm his nerves over the baby, and anything happening to Regan. He had a terrible feeling his son would suffer the same fate his daughter durning the same time Ms. Mead had been burned by the stake. It had still been somewhat early, but the pregnancy came as a surprise. Ms. Mead was over the moon, thrilled that the prophecy was in fact being told. Michael had suspected he had gotten Regan pregnant on their wedding night, which had followed shortly before the seven wonders had been held. He still vividly remembered that night. How frightened and excited both had been. He remembered feeling this sudden surge of power, before sinking into her, and nearly climaxing instantly. The candles around the room brightened, as he moaned, feeling his back arch. Nothing ever in his entire sad brief life had ever felt this good.

It had been Regan's first time as well, and she had hissed out in pain, shaking her head, begging him to take it out.

"Michael, please...take it out. It's too big."

Michael waited a second. Ms. Mead had given him magazines and DVDs of what she called "porn". To teach him about natural urges and needs a man and a woman had. He had done his research privately, and had been more than a little on edge when the special night finally arrived. Keeping himself lifted, yet still deeply inside of her. He waited for a second, feeling her tightness and warmth before staring down at her.

"Shhhh...relax my darling, just lay back and hold on."

Regan had stared up, pain and tears flickering in her eyes, but she trusted him. She asked him to please go slow and he listened. He took a second, remembering how just less than ten minutes ago he had performed "oral sex" on her. At first she had been so embarrassed as he slowly lowered his head between her two spread legs. He had looked up on what to do in order to make his partner "climax" and had explored and taken his time as he licked her juices, and found himself getting harder by the second as he worked away, enjoying the power of watching her squirm and cry. Just a week ago she had performed oral on him, truly the first sexual act they had shared besides seeing each other naked. He remembered how he had cried out, jaw dropping, eyes watering, as a million tiny fireworks lit up in his vision. Ms. Mead had explained that pleasures such as sex were one of the greatest things on Earth, and the people against him, the "believers" looked at it as dirty and sinful. After climaxing for the first time, Michael knew if this was what it felt every time, he would gladly have sex with Regan every night.

Ms. Mead had told them they should wait until they were married, and a black mass was held by his followers. Regan seemed nervous, but looked absolutely beautiful in a black lace gown as she walked towards him, holding dried up roses. He felt his heart hammer as he stared at her, and spoke his vows, becoming lost in her big brown eyes. He knew right then and there if he was allowed to feel "love" this was it, and he would gladly die for his new bride. That night he had carried her to the bed they had shared for the last month, carefully laid her down. Ms. Mead had given them the house to themselves tonight and wouldn't be back until the following Monday, where plans were to start traveling to start on the seven wonders. Michael had plans by the warlocks to show this Supreme how powerful he really was. The warlocks for the most part had gone to the wedding, and were thrilled that young Michael...their hopeful talented young star was now married to a beautiful young woman. They all remarked how lovely she was as they shook his hand after the ceremony.

After the celebration, they had gotten dropped off at Mrs. Mead's by a limo supplied by the warlocks. They had tasted their first glasses of sparking wine, and both agreed it tasted horrible, wrinkling their noses, and laughing like children. Alone in the house, they had first started in the shower, frantic as they undressed, mouths devouring each other as Michael remembered not that long ago a curious Regan stepping into this very shower, catching him completely off guard. This was when he had seen her naked for the first time, and stared in complete wonder. They had gently kissed beneath the pouring hot water, as he stared at her breasts, and that tiny spot of hair between her legs. His penis twitched to life, and that's when Regan stood back and stared down, curious before he stared down as well.

"Sorry...it gets...bigger whenever I get excited."

"What makes that happen?"

"You."

He said with a shy smirk. She smiled, tilting her head, staring down.

"Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes...Ms. Mead said I can rub it and it can go away. I did it only a few times, it sorta feels nice."

"Can I touch it?"

Michael looked surprised before nodding, closely watching her.

"Sure..."

Her slim fingertips gently grazed the tip of his swollen penis, as he felt it twitch. Shutting his eyes, he tried to control herself before he felt her reach under, and gently roll his balls against the bottom of her palm.

"Does this hurt?"

Michael took deep breaths, his eyes still closed.

"No...it..."

Without warning, he suddenly lowered his head and cried out as his penis twitched again as the tingling pressure reached it's breaking point and he climaxed right into Regan's hand. Instantly embarrassed, he looked down as the water continued to pour down on them. Regan lifted her hand, slimy with his semen, before she brought her hand to her lips, and licked it. Michael's eyes widened, unable to believe himself, before Regan wrinkled her nose.

"Tastes funny..."

Michael no longer embarrassed gazed down at her in complete wonder, before reaching forward and gently cupping the sides of her face. Deeply kissing her, it was that night he proposed. Their wedding night, he remembered sinking down in her, his ass tensing as he took a second, really not able to truly control himself. He stared down at his wife, his bride, his partner, his soulmate, and suddenly felt so much desire and love it seemed actually scary. He gritted his teeth, before he bucked his hips, hearing the mattress beneath them creak. He stared down at her, curious with wonder, before he thrusted again. Feeling that same building tingling, he breathed deeply before he thrusted again, and again, and then suddenly felt himself without any warning begin to climax. Snapping his eyes shut, he found her hand and laced his fingers around hers as he emptied out.

Crying, he collapsed completely on top of her, before feeling warmth drip out of her, and down her inner thighs. The feeling made him lightheaded, before he weakly lifted his face, flushed and exhausted as he stared down at her in complete and total shock. He had just had sex for the first time with his wife. He knew he hadn't lasted long, but that wonderful feeling of actually finishing inside someone drove him mad. Staring at her, suddenly his eyes filled with concern.

"Are you okay?! I didn't hurt you did I?"

Staring up, Regan weakly smiled, before cupping the side of his face with her soft hand.

"No, I'm fine...am I bleeding?"

Michael looked down, before carefuly pulling out of her. There had been a little blood mixed with the sticky semen that had gotten everywhere including the sheets, but nothing nearly as bad as he believed. Less than ten minutes later, they agreed to try again. By dawn, they had made love nearly twelve times. Regan had been exhausted, but willing. Michael had now gotten a taste of sex, and absolutely loved it. Most of the time he insisted on being on top. He then tried with her on top, where he laid, staring up at her with serious eyes as he held onto her hips as she carefully raised herself up, and bucked her hips down as both explored together on what to do. He had taken her from behind again, and had finished almost the second he entered her. He only did her in the ass once, but she had cried out, claiming it hurt too badly.

By dawn, both were drained, yet Michael was on top of her, laying between her spread legs, having found a steady rhythm and was quickly thrusting away, working up a good sweat. His shoulder blades arched, as he drove himself into her. Finally he felt the same building tightening, and lowered his head crying out before he finished. Collapsing on top of her, she gently ran her fingers through his hair, before he blinked, and smiled kissing the side of her mouth. He bucked his hips, still deeply inside of her before Regan looked slightly uncomfortable and looked up.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to get hard again, hold on..."

Regan laughed, shaking her head beneath him.

"How can you have any fluids left in your body? Let's just relax for a little bit...I'm too sore."

Michael smiled, knowing she was right. They had been going at this for hours, and she was completely human. He had a sense had honestly as exhausted as he was could somehow keep finding the energy to keep going. Knowing his love needed a break, he kissed her again before pulling out and gathering her in his arms. She snuggled against him in the crook of his arm, before he kissed the top of her head, and stared up at the ceiling. Lifting his left hand, he looked at his wedding band before smiling. This was the happiest he had truly ever been. He suspected the first time that night when they had sex with each other for the first time they had conceived their daughter. It was durning the whole seven wonders ordeal that he had noticed Regan getting sick. When the news of her pregnancy was confirmed, Michael as scared as he was, joined Ms. Mead in rejoicing.

She explained it only meant he was getting more powerful. The warlocks all seemed just as happy, and Regan as nervous as she was, actually seemed happy. It had been still so early when she miscarried. He knew just by looking at her that he had put a daughter in her womb. He remembered feeling such powerful love over their tiny baby, no bigger than perhaps a walnut growing inside of her. He had been so happy...when everything was taken away. First the warlocks who supported his cause and were willing to kill for him, then Ms. Mead. He remembered wandering to the freeway overpass seeing their burnt remains with Regan, and how instantly both stared at the corpses, before Regan turned away and began to dry heave from the smell of burnt flesh. Michael had seen in his mind what had happened, and broke down completely. When that bitch Supreme had appeared, she had tried to sway him to follow her, that she had casted a spell from preventing Michael from making Ms. Mead return. That's when Regan doubled over and began to cry out. Michael turned, eyes wide before he saw the blood. The Supreme had sighed, and told them this child of darkness wouldn't survive, that if Regan was smart she would run far far away from Michael and never look back.

Michael had held Regan as she cried, Screamin out in pain. He had tried to perform his magic on making the bleeding stop...but he couldn't. The Supreme disappeared, and Michael scooped up his wife and hurried to the main road, flagging down a car. They were driven to the hospital, and Michael watched frightened as Regan was loaded up on a stretcher, holding her lower stomach and crying out Michael's name as more blood soaked through beneath her. Michael had ran along side the nurses, scared and frustrated that his magic wasn't working.

Then...a few hours later he was informed that Regan had lost the baby.

She had suffered from a great deal of blood loss, and was in a coma. Michael couldn't believe it. How could he had let this happen? They were so happy? He was the new Supreme. He had finished the seven wonders. The warlocks were helping him with Ms. Mead. No, none of this was supposed to have happened. Regan and him hadn't been married long, but were happy and expecting their first child. Now in just a few mere hours all of that had been taken away. He couldn't understand how he couldn't help Regan? He sat beside her bedside, staring at her pale face as tubes went into her mouth giving her oxygen as machines beeped. The doctors weren't sure when she would wake up, and were little to no comfort to Michael. He knew if needed to rest up and heal before he attempted to heal her. If he lost his wife, he would have officially lost everything. In a daze, he stared at her with tear filled puffy eyes, holding her tiny hand, and bowing his head apologizing. He would have done anything to have Ms. Mead back...she would know how to fix this.

The doctors explained they had tried everything they could, and it was now just a matter of waiting Knowing she was in danger, Michael simply leaned down, kissed her forehead before whispering he would be back. Venturing into the forest, he knew he needed a sign by his father...he wouldn't allow the witches to hurt his wife. He suspected they hadn't had anything to do with the miscarriage, but had prevented his powers from stopping it from happening. Now Ms. Mead was lost from him forever, and his darling Regan laying in some hospital bed. He needed to find a sign before he tried to heal her... So into the wilderness he went, and a few days later he stumbled upon the cult of followers. He was taken in by a believer of his father, and she showed him the way to regain power. Shortly after visiting the company that could build him his new Ms. Mead, he ventured back to the hospital where his wife had been for almost two weeks, and simply sat beside her and squeezed her hand. Like that, her eyes opened, tried and confused. Now, years later, here they were. Their second child, a son floating in his safe womb, faintly hearing his father's voice from the outside.

Regan had redressed in a simple black slip, and her silk bathrobe that showed off her huge pregnant stomach. She sat up, hand resting on it as she stared off into space as her husband sat at the desk checking his emails. She thought she could faintly hear music from the party below, and shuddered to think of what was really happening. In no time, Ms. Mead and Ms. Venable knocked on their quarter's door and entered...


	5. Chapter 5

The door to Michael and Regan's quarters opened without so much as a knock.

Michael didn't turn. Instead he continued sitting at his desk, his laptop open as Regan slightly turned her head towards the door and the two women stepping inside. She was aware of the plan, but knew better than to question it. Instead she sat back, knowing very well all of those people she had met briefly when they first arrived along with the kind servants were all dead. That included that nice couple she vaguely remembered after being drugged sneaking into Michael's room. Instead of telling him what she could barley remember from that thick fog she had been in, she thought that a complete tragedy it was. There wasn't many people left alive on this planet, and here Michael was, cunning as ever, using these people like puppets to follow through with his plans. She thought of that nice servant...Mallory she believed her name was? It was shortly before Michael voiced his concerns to her about the interview with her, and the strange sense of danger she carried. To Regan she was just a regular scared young woman. In fact, she reminded her much like herself...at least before all of this got so out of control.

She was mousy, but pretty beneath those glasses, and that stupid hairstyle she wore. She had come in to change the bedding while Michael was down the hall meditating. Regan was left in her room, reading her old torn, and faded copy of "Petals Of The Wind." She had absolutely loved these books when she was younger, thinking they were so raunchy, and a complete guilty pleasure of hers. She had the whole series, along with several others that she held precious.

To her they were trashy novels that she found herself transported whenever she read about these tragic characters, and for just an hour or so a day, much like before she met Michael, she would forget her worries, and just sit inthralled. Lately she was basically ordered by Michael to have strict bedrest, so the only things really left to do was to sleep or read. That day she was sitting up in the leather chair by the fire, reading by the light from the fire, when there was a gentle knock on the door and Mallory entered, carrying fresh bedding.

"Excuse me Mrs. Langdon, I've come to clean your room."

Regan marked her page and looked up, and a tried smile came over her face.

"Thank you."

"I'll be fast..."

Regan shook her head and put her book down.

"Please, take your time...even though Michael and I aren't really that messy. Please forgive me in asking...but that woman Coco...I thought you were..."

"Her personal servant? Well kinda, but all of the grays were assigned to different rooms and this rotation I got you and your husband's quarters."

Regan shook her head.

"Forgive me in saying but this purple and gray nonsense really gets under my skin. I can tell you one thing, it didn't come from Michael. Probably one of those idiots that set up the whole outpost lineup. It's humiliating...but I guess money can buy everything. Here we are trying to rebuild and look what we have? Servants...slaves."

Regan stopped, seeing Mallory listening closely and blushed a little, feeling her cheeks burn as she rolled her eyes.

"Forgive me, I'm rambling...I guess I'm getting a bit of cabin fever. I really only talk to Michael. We've traveled, and the journey has supplied me with more than enough nightmares for one lifetime, but seeing someone like yourself cleaning up after others...it just frustrates me."

Mallory gave a small smile.

"Thank you..."

"I could talk to my husband and see..."

Mallory shook her head.

"No, I'm not here to make any trouble. I really don'y mind. Besides, I was Coco's personal assistant before all of this happened. I like helping people. I also have to remind myself that billions of people up top tied painful terrible deaths and they would have happily been grays."

Regan warmly smiled.

"You have a very kind way about yourself, that's rare...most of all now. I can see kindness in your eyes."

Mallory nervously fixed her glasses, blushing herself before she turned and went to work. Instantly Regan knew Mallory must have seen the dried semen stains on the silk cheeks and wanted to die. Michael and her had been virgins on their wedding night. She remembered at first the sex had been painful, like a terrible stinging as he entered her. After they continued trying, the stinging went away, and instead a strange sensation of pressure. When he made her climax she saw stars, and from that point onward they honestly couldn't seem to take their hands off each other. Michael quickly understood how Regan's body worked. He played her like an instrument. At first she saw sex as this dirty little secret, some unknown thing she honestly never thought she would experience. The idea of her father perhaps one day raping her terrified her more than anything. She hated to admit it, but she was forever grateful that Michael had killed him, and the threat of that ever happening was gone. She thought of all of the times Michael's curious excited greenish blue eyes closely studied her face in the darkness of their bedroom.

How she leaned how to pleasure him, and absolutely loved pinning him down, and kissing his penis, before licking his shaft, tasting his juices. She loved the helpless look in his eyes as he breathed in and out, gasping. She loved traveling her hand down to his crotch, feeling the bulge pulse and grow. She loved the scent of clean soap in his hair, or how amazing it looked whenever it was wet and slicked back. She closely studied his body, every tiny freckle, every inch of his smooth pale skin. Both much like children explored, and learned from each other. She wasn't surprised she had gotten pregnant so quickly right around the time of the Seven Wonders. She still remembered how different that pregnancy had been than this one. Before everything fell apart. She remembered how excited Michael had been. How she had violently vomited in the field before entering the school for the warlocks. How he had hurried over, kneeling by her. Both had brushed off how exhausted she was, as well as nauseated from traveling. She had taken a test in private, and Ms. Mead had taken her to a private doctor of hers who had in fact confirmed the pregnancy.

She remembered what a beautiful day it had been, the sun shinning, birds chirping in the distance. She remembered her husband kneeling down, rubbing her back before wiping her lips with his other hand. Sighing, she sat back on her bottom. Two of the warlocks stood by the spiral entrance, politely waiting for them. They had just taken a town car, and the second they got out Regan had booked it towards the bushes to vomit. She was embarrassed, but Ms. Mead had reassured her that it was a good sign she was throwing up so much, which meant her hormones were right, and the baby just less than ten weeks old was strong. She had waited to wait until Michael had property finished the Seven Wonders to tell him the good news, but the truth was ever since she overheard the witches speak about the dangers, she was terrified about him taking such a risk. In this brief time being married to Michael, she was head over heels in love with him. He was so pure, like a child, and loved and protected her like life depended on it. She still wasn't completely sure how she felt about the love of her life, her husband, the father of her unborn child being the antichrist, but maybe...just maybe none of this mattered. Only their shared love. She hoped she could maybe talk him out of the seven wonders knowing he had a child on the way.

She knew she couldn't stand losing him now. She had sat back, her throat burning from the vomit, as she rolled her eyes and fished in her pocket for a stick of gum. Her doctor had said gum would help with her stomach whenever things got mad. Plus, it helped with her breath every time she threw up anything she put in her stomach. Sighing, she chewed on the piece of peppermint gum, and stared at her husband's handsome face. Ms. Mead had told them these next few weeks there was a lot to do, most of all the prove to the witches and warlocks he was the next supreme. He was accepted to the school of warlocks, but Ms. Mead and Regan remained close since Michael refused to be away from them for too long. Whenever Regan seemed overwhelmed, scared, or questioned herself, Ms. Mead would gently take her by the shoulders, and remind her that everything was going according to plan.

That Regan's job was at stand by her husband as not only his bride, but his right hand man. That a lot depended on Michael, that he was special, and she needed to stand back, and continue supporting and loving him like he deserved.

When Michael asked if she was okay? If she needed a doctor? Regan had given a tired smile and shook her head, still chewing her gum.

"No...I've all ready seen a doctor."

Instanly Michael's eyes filled with terror, he reached and grasped her arm, hard enough to hurt it.

"What's wrong?"

Regan smirked, before fishing into her other pocket and handed Michael the small ultrasound photo the doctor had printed out for them after Ms. Mead had taken her to the doctor to confirm the pregnancy. She remembered laying on the table, in the small office with the shades drawn. The doctor, a middle aged man who also happened to be a Devil worshiper much like Ms. Mead, had grinned pointing to the fuzzy image on the screen. Ms. Mead had squeezed her hand before saying with the doctor...

"Hail Satan."

Now, she handed the ultrasound photo to her husband. A man who was really just a child at heart, but had somehow saved her from that nightmare she lived with, and had shown her such wonders she didn't think were possible...

Michael raised an eyebrow confused, before he focused on the tiny photo, that's when his eyes lifted, first staring straight at her still pretty flat stomach, and then to her own face. He looked stunned, his mouth opened but no words came. Regan watched as a single tear filled up his left eye, and slowly rolled down his cheek in a tiny trail. Regan felt anxious, wondering if he was angry or upset? Right away those feelings vanished, as the most adorable and pure grin spread across his face. Smiling, he reached forward with the hand that wasn't holding the ultrasound photo and firmly pressed it against her stomach. He closed his eyes, a smile widening before he opened his eyes, tears of happiness glittering in them.

"It's a girl."

Regan stared at him in wonder.

"How do you..."

Before she could say another word, he gathered her in his arms, squeezing her tight, kissing the top of her head and softly weeping, and laughing at the same time.

"Thank you...thank you...thank you..."

He repeated over and over, not knowing this happiness wouldn't last long. In fact, it would all be destroyed and shortly after the Seven Wonders were completed and he was crowned the new Supreme...both Ms. Mead and their daughter would be dead. Thinking back on the morning she told him about the first pregnancy, up top, which was now a barren wasteland, nothing like that beautiful image she held onto in the back of her mind. She figured this was one of the last times both actually were able to feel young, and hopeful... She watched as Mallory cleaned up, taking the soiled sheets in a basket, as she made a fresh new one. She went into the bathroom, and Regan heard the sound of running water, before she came back out.

"Fresh towels have been laid out Mrs. Langdon."

"Please call me Regan."

Mallory smirked, gathering everything to take out before she looked down at her stomach. Regan smiled, patting it.

"Wanna feel?"

Mallory suddenly dropped her eyes looking embarrassed.

"I shouldn't..."

Regan shot her a look still partly smiling.

"You have permission, don't worry my husband won't know. He's just over protective..."

Mallory sighed, still looking unsure, before stepping forward, and hesitating for a second before pressing her palm against Regan's swollen stomach. That's when Mallory withdrew her hand fast, and gave a small nervous laugh as the baby swiftly gave a series of kicks one after another. Mallory looked up at at Regan and laughed with her.

"Wow...I've never felt a baby kick so hard..."

Regan smiled rolling her eyes, shifting her weight in the chair, holding her stomach.

"Yeah, he's pretty active. Constantly moving up into my ribcage or resting on my bladder. Keeps me awake most nights."

"He?"

Regan nodded smiling, actually for the first time in what seemed like forever it seemed natural.

"Yeah, it's a boy."

"Got any names picked out?"

"Michael likes Alexander. I sorta like Christopher from these stupid books. We'll probably settle on Alexander Christopher Langdon."

Mallory smiled, staring down at her stomach.

"I like that..."

Suddenly Regan wanted so badly to warn this poor thing and tell her to escape. Instead, she knew better. Sitting back, she sadly smiled, before Mallory gently patted the top curve of her belly, and nodded.

"It was nice talking to you Mrs. Langdon. I have a meeting soon with your husband. I look forward to speaking to him, but..."

"You don't think he'll pick you?"

Mallory sadly smiled and shrugged, honestly looking as if she didn't care. Picking her basket up, she stared down at Regan.

"If I don't it's okay. I've had a good life. Good luck with your baby Regan. Maybe he'll get your husband's hair. It's beautiful."

Regan sadly smiled and nodded, still gently rubbing her stomach, hoping the baby would settle down from moving.

"It is isn't it?"

Mallory smiled, before wishing her a good evening, and carried the basket out, before shutting the door behind her. Alone, Regan sadly sat back, staring down at her stomach. The baby was still moving, feeling as if he was currently doing flips in there. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, she closed her eyes, trying to block out all the worries that were building. Mallory, this sweet girl would be killed. All of them would be killed. She thought of the billions dead, the pain, the suffering, and the fact she had married the antichrist, his bride, his soulmate, standing by his side as so much evil had been done. Now she was carrying his child...his son...an heir. She figured no matter how much Michael prayed, this child would rip itself coming out of her and into this world, and more than likely...kill her in the process.

She knew by loving, and marrying Michael, she had sinned. She wasn't sure if there was a God, but she now knew for certain there was a Devil. She just wished so badly she would make this all stop.

The witches had been right... She knew he had good in him, she had seen it. She knew it was too late now, that his soul was damned, and even in death, she wouldn't escape him. He would either bring her back, or she would be trapped in her personal Hell until they were reunited.

Now tonight she sat on their shared bed in their quarters. She held her stomach firmly, feeling the baby move within. Ms. Mead and Ms. Venable walked in. Regan watched them as they crossed the room. Ms. Venable holding her cane, Ms. Mead holding a pistol. Michael didn't turn, instead he sounded annoyed.

"Ladies I'm a little busy right now formulating my selections..."

"This won't take long."

Michael turned, for just a brief second he glanced in Regan's direction. Before the women came in, he instructed her to not say a word and just sit there and watch everything play out. He reassured her that both weren't in any danger. Now she watched as her handsome husband slowly turned, looking curious as he stared at them.

"What's this?"

"We're making the selections now Mr. Langdon and I'm afraid you didn't make the cut."

Michael then let out a natural laugh, chuckling and looking absolutely stunning. Regan held her stomach, filled with the child he had put inside of her, and felt that dangerous aching love she had originally felt for him. Something she sadly had felt less and less of in these past eighteen months...

"I'm sorry I wanted you to have your moment but I just couldn't hold it in."

"You think this is funny?"

"I think I'm impressed Ms. Venable, I wasn't sure you had it in you. You passed the test you're perfect for the sanctuary."

Regan saw Venable's eyes flicker for a second before she took a deep breath and instructed Ms. Mead behind her with the gun. Right away Regan knew how this was going to play out and sighed.

"Ms Mead..."

"I wouldn't do that..."

"Ms. Mead..."

Instead Ms. Mead turned and fired the gun straight at Venable's chest. She stared at Ms. Mead stunned, before blood began to blossom against her white blouse and her eyes rolled back as she fell to a dead slump against the floor. Ms. Mead stared back stunned, as well as more than a little scared and confused.

"I don't know why I did that...I was always loyal to her..."

Michael stared at her

"It's all right you were obeying command. that's what your programed to do. My commands. Did you enjoy executing the poisoned apple plans as much as I enjoyed coming up with it?"

Ms. Mead stared at him stunned.

"You wanted everyone dead?"

"I've never been a fan of getting my hands dirty I learned that from my father...always more fun to entice men and woman to dirty deeds confirms what I always believed."

"What do you believe?"

"That all people given the right pressures and simulations are evil mother fuckers..."

Ms. Mead shook her head.

"I'm having trouble with us I know I'm just a machine..."

Michael rose, and stared at her.

"NEVER say that. you're never just a machine not to me..."

He continued talking about how he had her built. Regan spaced out slightly, thinking of everyone at this outpost dead. Instead, she swung her legs out, allowing her bare feet to touch the cold marble floor. She rose as Ms. Mead and Michael continued to talk. She went to the dresser, grabbing the black silk long sleeve sundress. She picked it up hearing Michael say...

"Someone from my childhood someone very dear to me..."

Ms. Mead smiled, love in her glass eyes.

"The beautiful boy..."

Michael smiled.

"That was me...but I had to keep the most important part of you hidden from your mind."

"Why?"

"To protect you and the plan but now it's the time remember it all. I lost you and I couldn't bare it I can't imagine a new world without you by my side...the only woman who ever understood me..."

"Whoever must have really loved you..."

Michael smiled before turning to face Regan. He put his arm around her thin shoulders, and almost as if he was introducing her to his own mother for the very first time. He proudly smiled, gently squeezing her against him.

"Ms. Mead, this of course is my beautiful wife Regan. You loved her like a daughter."

Ms. Mead smiled before casting her eyes down to her swollen stomach.

"A...child?"

Michael smiled noddy proudly before rubbing her stomach.

"Yes, a son."

Ms. Mead's eyes lit up.

"A son..."

Michael smiled before nuzzling the side of Regan's face with his nose before turning towards Ms. Mead.

"She means everything to me. You see, you took me in after I was thrown out by my biological family, told that I was a monster. Cast out to die. Instead you welcomed me with open arms, taught me, raised me, looked after me. I modeled you after the real Ms. Mead, knowing I could restart this world with the people I trusted and loved the most. You'll help me protect my wife, and my child...at any means?"

"Of course..."

Michael deeply sighed, before looking at Ms. Mead.

"My mother...my biological mother, not you...but the woman who gave birth to me...she died bringing me into this world. I have prayed to my father, and casted protection spells, but my mind still isn't at ease. You'll help me save her? She's too important."

"Of course Michael."

Michael nodded, closing his eyes, overcome by emotion. He sighed, kissing the top of Regan's head.

"We're a family again...I told you my love, everything is falling into place."

He then let go of her, before opening her robe. He allowed it to fall to the floor, pooling at her ankles showing her beautiful pregnant body. Her stomach stuck out of her tin frame, and her large breasts were swollen and tender looking. She didn't seem phased by this at all, instead she simply stood there, again almost as if she was in a trace before Michael came around again with the dress she had taken out. Carefully he slipped it over her head, letting the dress pool over her, snug around her stomach. Silently he worked, pinning up her hair into a bun, just like he liked it. He softly hummed as he did so. Once he was finished, he reached and squeezed her hand, before bringing it to the side of his face. He nuzzled it, closing his eyes and smiling.

"Regan means the world to me...and you two are to stand by my side during it all. I won't lose you two...not again."

Ms. Mead smiled, before reaching and touching the sleeve of his jacket.

"Your jacket...it's stained."

"I have another in the wardrobe."

Ms. Mead went and picked out his red velvet dinner jacket, taking it off the hanger as Michael stripped off his dirty one and allowed Ms. Mead to slip it onto him, carefully pulling his long hair out of the collar and fixing it. Michael took Regan's arm, and smiled standing beside her, both looking like some twisted gothic version of the toppers of wedding cakes. Ms. Mead smiled as Michael raised an eyebrow.

"How do we look?"

"Hail Satan..."

Michael smirked.

"Not quite, but we appreciate the sentiment."

Michael glanced at Regan and giggled softly.

"Regan, I believe you're glowing."

Regan stared at him with tired eyes before Michael leaned in close, pressing his head against hers when suddenly he tensed up. Regan felt it, and Ms. Mead saw it. Instantly, Michael let go of Regan's hand, and stared at the door. Ms. Mead looked at him confused.

"What?"

"I feel something...danger..."

"I thought you said they were all dead."

"That's what I thought..."

He nodded to Ms. Mead who nodded in return, and walked to the door opening it. Michael turned, and stared at Regan's eyes before placing his hands firmly on her shoulders.

"We're going to check and see if everything is okay, then we're leaving..."

"What is it? You feel something? What?"

Michael shook his head.

"Nothing, just stay up here no matter what you hear. Lay down and wait. Understand?"

Regan slowly nodded before Michael closed his eyes, and tilted his head, deeply kissing her. His mouth covered hers, his hands gently running up and down her sides, before he broke the kiss, both gasping for air. Michael took a deep breath, shaking his hair back, before Regan reached, and squeezed his arm.

"Be careful."

Michael stared at her for a second, and saw that she really meant it. She was scared. Nodding, he gently kissed his forehead, before sitting her on the edge of the bed. Looking down at her, he seemed unsure, before turning and walking out, shutting the door behind him. Regan sat there for a second, staring down at her stomach and remembered...all those months ago when it hit her that Michael was planning on having another baby, with or without her consent.

It was a few months after the bombs had hit. Michael and Regan were at their outpost, protected in their own private world. He had selected this one, and it was much smaller than the others, but much safer, and not some gothic prison like Outpost 3 was. No, this one had supplies to last them twenty or so years. Indoor gardens, and even animals kept down below. They had farmers, a few doctors, and some of the wealthy there. They knew Michael was in charge, and besides a few meetings he attended daily, he kept to himself in their private wing. It served almost like an apartment. There was a lower, and upper level. Michael had made sure it was decorated just like it had been back home. He had remembered to stock her favorite books, her clothes, fake beautiful sunflowers which were her favorite. Everything down to the plush white carpet, to the furniture, the artwork, and even the illusion of outside, paintings with lights rigged to change, looking as if at a glance out any window they were on the beach and the faint sound of the ocean coming from the hidden speakers.

This outpost was the nicest, and when he first brought her to it, she honestly couldn't believe it. It had been perfect. She remembered the first night when he first brought her, how scared she had been knowing the bombs were coming. The day they did, many of the others were out of their private wings, they were gathered in the common area watching the news reports by satellite. Michael shielded Regan from this. He had distracted her, and that morning as the bombs dropped, besides a little tremors from above and the lights flickering, he tightly wrapped his arms around her in bed, softly singing in her ear... She shook, crying, knowing the world she once knew was being destroyed, as was all of these billions of people. Knowing Michael more than likely had something to do with this, scared her to death. But, not today...

He was the same caring, sweet, loving, and beautiful young man she had married. He held her tightly, soothing her as she cried and shook. When it was over, he promised her that even though they had to stay here and wait, they would be together, and there wouldn't be one day that she felt like she was trapped or in a prison. It was maybe three months since the bombs dropped, and Michael had kept good on his promise, taking care of Regan's every need. She felt like those months had been the happiest for them. He seemed so young, and when he wasn't at his meetings, he was alone with her in their quarters. They cooked, she taught him how to dance, they playfully roughhoused, and she played him music. They talked for hours, and she sketched. They were in their own private safe perfect world...ignoring everything else. Then there came the night, not when he had turned on her and raped her, conceiving their son...but months before hand, when it hit her what his plans were. She had been off the pill for some time, the outpost doctor she saw recommend she went off them for a few months after receiving the ordered shots everyone received at the outpost once arriving. The pill might counteract with her injections, and he told her three, four months tops before she could go back on them. She remembered receiving the shots, in line with everyone else. How Michael had stood by her, watching closely as she was stuck with her fifth needle, his eyes serious and closely watching her.

They had been careful having sex. They hadn't talked much since she lost the first baby about trying again, but they knew starting over would have to be a serious subject in the future. Until then, they agreed to be careful. Sure there were condoms, but Michael had never worn one, and they decided on the pull out method. They had practiced a few times while she was still on the pill, and it had worked perfectly. Michael had amazing control, and no matter how intense things were getting, he would always pull out right before climaxing before finishing on her stomach, both breathless and exhausted. They did this nearly every night, like a routine. Michael truly never seemed to be able to unwind and relax completely after his meetings until after he had her. Sometimes she would give him oral, or use her hand, but nothing quite worked like him being inside of her. As always they would have sex for at least an hour, like clockwork right before he finished inside of her, he would pull out, and finish either on her stomach, or against the sheets. After that, they would lay in each other's arms, glissening with sweat, laying naked in each other's arms, listening to those recordings of the ocean. But there was that night... He had returned to their quarters in a terrible mood, but never once took it out on her. Instead, he had begun to undress her in a complete frenzy, ripping her blouse and bra open, undoing her jeans, and devouring her with his mouth. He threw her against the bed, snapping her panties off and flinging them to the side.

Staring at her, taking deep breaths, he undressed, his hair getting longer and longer. He undressed, before spreading her legs, and lifting each leg and putting them on his shoulders. He entered her in one swift motion and she gasped. They began having sex at a frighting rate. He knelt between her legs, pumping away, her legs hanging off his shoulders, dangling as he continued to pump away, his hair getting in his face, as he suddenly muttered he was coming. Regan looked up, having all ready climaxed three times herself. She laid back, her hair pooling around her on the silk sheets, panting, before suddenly she saw Michael wasn't pulling out.

"Michael...baby...pull out..."

She panted, as he continued to roughly thrust into her, grasping onto her hips. His ass tensing, he snapped his eyes shut before muttering...

"I'm gonna come..."

"Michael! Pull out! Don't come inside!"

She struggled, trying to scoot up, when Michael suddenly seemed as if he was being woken up. In a daze, he blinked, before coming to his senses. He pulled out in lighting speed, before climaxing in two large squirts as ropy cum flew out onto Regan's stomach. He shuddered, before bowing his head, his penis twitching before he lowered his head. Regan laid there for a second, before it truly hit her how close they had gotten. After losing the baby, the very thought of getting pregnant this soon, mostly as the world was on fire above them scared the living Hell out of her. She laid, stunned, before Michael raised his face, his skin flushed, and his eyes scared.

"Jesus...are you okay?!"

Regan shrugged, before looking down at the sticky semen spread all over her stomach. Michael saw this, embarrassed before grabbing some of the sheets, and wiped her stomach gently and with love. Regan watched him, before he sighed and stared at her.

"Sorry...I guess...I sorta zoned out or something."

Regan sighed, before she reached up, and cupped the side of his face.

"Are you okay?"

Michael shrugged, shaking his head.

"I...I don't know..."

Regan motioned as he laid back in her arms. He laid in the crook of it, staring up at the ceiling, long red hair pooling over her arm. Regan gently traced his chest with her long finger, gently smiling at him. She figured something was the matter, but he wouldn't admit it.

"That was close Michael..."

Michael sighed rubbing his face.

"I know..."

"Too close. We gotta be careful Michael..."

"I know...I'm sorry...I just...lost control. I know your body is still healing..."

"It's been long enough...but we haven't talked about it. I know we have to restart some day, but...now isn't the time. It's madness..."

Michael turned slightly, locking eyes with her.

"I know...I just...I want..."

"What?"

Michael sighed, staring at her in the darkness of their bedroom and smiled.

"A son."

Now, fourteen or so months later, she sat on the edge of the bed, Michael and Ms. Mead going downstairs to investigate and see if everyone was indeed still dead. Michael's son he wanted so badly filling her belly, when suddenly a sharp pain surged through her, a pain she had blocked away from remembering...'

Standing on two shaken legs, she stared down, when suddenly a terrible pressure filled her when a gush of water came down from between her two legs, soaking a puddle onto the floor. Her water had just broke. Standing there, she swayed, holding her stomach.

No, no...it was too early. This couldn't be happening. It was too early... Her water...had just broke.


	6. Chapter 6

Regan snapped her eyes shut as a tidal wave of pain doubled her over as she sat on the edge of the bed, hands firmly planted on her perfectly round stomach. She remembered these pains, back when she miscarried. Panic flustered through her like a trapped bird in a cage, wings frantically flapping. Her heart pounded loudly within her chest, as suddenly another pain hit. She knew this wasn't right, it was still far too early. Yet, her water had just broke.

Scared out of her mind, she knew this baby wasn't ordinary. That she had a feeling the heavy weight that was constantly swimming around, kicking, and flipping was a full grown healthy infant, that might very well rip itself out of her, resulting in her death just like what happened to Michael's biological mother. She knew this scared Michael more than anything, and he had been doing anything humanly possible to prevent this from happening. Now everyone besides them and the machine modeled after Ms. Mead were, everyone was dead. She knew Michael wanted to make the journey back. Regan as of lately had fallen into some sort of trance. She felt half there, almost as if since the rape whatever strength, and real part of her had been shattered. Now she simply just followed Michael, barley speaking, sleeping the days away, constantly feeling uncomfortable as their baby, or whatever this thing was grew large and larger each day. She was beginning to realize that she had made a terrible mistake in going with Michael and following him. That she had been tragically fooled.

That she was so weak, and scared from her father, that she trusted Michael, allowing him to take her away, protect her, and love her. The brief time they had shared, she had wanted so badly to be a good wife. She had simply stood back watching terrible things happen, and before she knew it she watched her gorgeous husband, who she knew somehow beneath it all had a heart, and loved her more than anything else. Instead, Ms. Mead, the warlocks, and even his so called "father". had led him, pronouncing his destiny. She remembered laying with him in their private quarters the morning the bombs dropped. She remembered how scared she was, trembling as Michael held her in their new bed, stroking the side, whispering to her that everything was going to be alright. She thought back on the night before. He had taken her up to the beach, and the two sat side by side on the soft sugar colored sand, watching the sun set as different shades of purple, red, and orange filled the sky. A warm breeze blew against them, before Michael reached and squeezed her hand.

"You okay?"

Regan gazed out at the ocean, and the gorgeous sky, and knew soon all of this would be destroyed. Sighing, she knew there was nothing she could say or do to change things. She had been with him and the new "Ms. Mead" when he met with the Illuminati. There was no stoping things now. Staring at him, she wanted to beg him to make it stop. That these fools were taking advantage of his power. That he couldn't destroy all of this and expect her to stand by his side. Instead, she was weak, and simply sighed, reaching over, cupping the side of his face and shaking her head.

"Nothing..."

He smiled in return, laying his head against her shoulder, squeezing her hands, and staring out at the ocean as the sun continued to set. The following morning, she laid in the freshly made bed, miles upon miles underneath the ground in the bunker of the sanctuary. She remembered him taking her there, and how frightened she was. The staff dropped their bags off, before Regan walked around, large brown eyes scanning the "apartment" which were two floors, and designed to fit Regan's every want and need. She knew Michael had made sure of it. Staring out the fake windows, of the painted screened backdrop of the beach and the ocean. The lights were rigged, along with the speakers, faintly she heard the sounds of waves, and birds crying in the distance. Michael stood back nervous, watching as she walked around, staring at the furniture, walking across the white plush carpet, and looking at the beautiful artwork, some of her favorite pieces that Regan figured were the originals, taken from museums from across the world, replaced with doubles.

She knew Michael had pull, and he had spent plenty of time to make this their own private safe haven. Afterwards they laid in bed, and she could faintly hear the shaking as the room slightly trembled. She laid there in Michael's arms, frightened...knowing exactly what was happening above. It was in this very same bed months later she had watched Michael lose control, his eyes turning black, as he pinned her down, ripped her clothes off, and violently raped her...conceiving the very baby she knew was fighting to come out of her at this exact moment.

Hands firmly pressing against her stomach, she stiffened a cry, slowly bowing her head. She expected any second Michael to come bursting into the room. He somehow could sense things with her, especially when it came to the baby. Instead...nothing. She faintly heard what sounded like an explosion, or a loud bang. She slid down, grasping her stomach as worse cramps began to unfold, one after another, after another...

Hanging her head down low, she knew despite how early it was, the baby was coming. Panting, she knew either two things would happen. This baby would claw itself out of her, killing her. Or, the baby much like her poor darling daughter, would be born lifeless like a gray dead cold slug. She barley remembered the day she miscarried. It was still so early, but she remembered the pain had been completely unbearable, but the flashes of being raced down the hospital corridors, laying on a stretcher, thick syrup like blood seeping out of her from between her legs. She remembered the shouting of the nurses and doctors as they all spoke at once, placing an oxygen mask over her which began to fog up. She remembered how bad the pain was, cramps coming in such heavy waves she couldn't stop but scream out in agony. She remembered seeing Michael's scared face staring down at her, running along side of the stretcher, eyes filled with terrified tears as he reached down, squeezing her hand. She remembered earlier the two of them walking to the vast wife highway underpasses, seeing the three burnt bodies, knowing one of them was Mrs. Mead.

The scent of burnt flesh stung her nose, as she fought back to urge to vomit. Michael cried out over the woman who had loved him like a mother. That's when that woman had appeared. Cordelia...the supreme. That's when the cramps began, and the blood. She remembered her vision blurring, as she doubled over. Michael had screamed for her to help him, but she simply refused. Everything else was a blur. She felt sick, and suddenly knew she was losing the baby. The only thing she remembered before everything went dark, was laying on an examining table, her legs up in stirrups. She remembered hearing beeping, and feeling numb all over as the doctor with gloved hands, lifted up the tiny dead baby she had lost and they delivered for her. It was tiny, so small it actually fit in the palm of the doctor's hand. She remembered being so weak she could barley lift her head up, and saw the doctor lift the baby up, cord still attached. There laid Michael and her's daughter before being taken away. Sitting on the floor, taking steady deep breaths she knew this baby couldn't be coming now.

No, it was too early...

A single tear slipped down her face, trying to find the strength to move. Instead she faintly heard the loud echo of gunshots down below, and somehow she knew whatever was going on downstairs was the beginning of the end. Before... Regan sat on the edge of her shared bed with Michael at their private quarters at the sanctuary. Beautiful classical music played on the stereo in the other room softly. Candles were lit on the dresser, and the fireplace was lit, casting shadows in their room. Regan wore a black silk slip, her hair tied up in a loose bun, and pantyhose on, which usually drove Michael absolutely wild. They had spent the evening together instead of Michael going to meetings. They had dinner, and laid in each other's arms reading by the light of the fire, before Regan had an idea. She had taken out her makeup, and now sat cross legged on the edge of the bed, using a tiny brush and lightly blowing on it after dipping into the red and orange pallet. She smiled, instructing Michael to sit perfectly still. Michael smirked, wearing nothing but black dress slacks. His hair had gotten very long, and it was Regan's favorite thing about him. She loved how smooth and soft it felt, and often help him dry it after they showered.

She enjoyed this private time together in their quarters. She rarely left, and didn't really speak much to the others since the sanctuary was such a massive complex, and everyone minded their own business. Besides the staff, she mainly talked to Michael, and never left this place. To her it wasn't a prison. It was someplace safe, and Michael always was so tender and loving with her. Somehow when they were alone she saw Michael was able to let his guard down, and actually act like the sweet, innocent, loving young man she knew he could be. He did everything possible to take her mind off what was really happening above. She taught him how to dance, and sketch, and even paint.

They spent hours upon hours laying in each other's arms, talking about anything and everything. They made love, day dreamed. It seemed as if they were in their own private special, perfect world.

Until that evening...

She lightly brushed the red eyeshadow against the corners of Michael's closed eyelids. He smirked from the tickling sensation against her skim. Regan lightly hummed, brushing the makeup on, before sitting back and admiring her handiwork. Michael sat back, cracking an eye open.

"How does it look?"

Regan smiled, picking up a hand mirror and showed it to Michael. Raising an eyebrow, he stared down at his reflection and lightly laughed, a natural, good sound. Looking closer, he stared down before lifting his eyes and staring at her.

"I love it. Might need to be my signature look for now on."

Regan smiled, before taking the makeup and mirror and placing it on the nightstand. Turning, she faced her husband before sighing and reached over, lacing her hands into Michael's, she gave a gentle squeeze, before cocking her head to the side.

"Something is bothering you."

Michael sighed, staring at her, his freshly painted eyes, troubled and sad.

"I was...thinking about her."

Regan stared, confused.

"Who?"

"Our daughter."

Regan felt a dull ache in her chest as she stared across at him. Squeezing her hands, Michael sighed.

"I keep wondering if she would have gotten my hair...maybe your eyes? I constantly think maybe there was something I could have done. If my powers had been stronger maybe I could have..."

Regan found tears welling up in her eyes. Instead, she shook her head.

"Michael...don't."

Michael sighed, dropping his eyes.

"Amber...I always thought Amber Langdon would have been a nice name."

Regan's heart broke hearing Michael talk about their dead daughter. She didn't know where this was coming from, but she gave his hands another squeeze, before closing her eyes and nodding.

"Amber, that's a beautiful name..."

She felt Michael sit forward, firmly pressing his lips against hers. She closed her eyes, responding slowly, as her lips went against his, slowly opening and closing. she opened her eyes, looking at Michael's face, and how absolutely gorgeous he seemed...

She kissed him back, before suddenly she saw his eyes open and for a fraction of a second instead of his stunning blue eyes around the painted red eye shadow, they were black. Her own eyes widening, she froze, tensing all over when suddenly the kisses became much stronger and rougher. She blinked, thinking maybe it was just a trick of the light. She swayed for a moment, trying to pull back when Michael's hand reached and dove into her hair, firmly holding her head back from pulling away. Her mouth being covered by his, she suddenly tried to pull away, push him back and tell him something was wrong, that she didn't want to.

That's when she saw his eyes again, and she saw for certain these weren't Michael's eyes. Terror freezing her heart, she tried to push him away, when suddenly Michael grinned, and instead of seeing her handsome husband...she saw a monster. She saw his eyes and let out a blood curdling scream, but knew no matter how loudly she screamed...no help would come. The monster that looked like her husband laughed, before his hand reached forward and tore her nightgown in half as if it were made out of tissue paper. She cried out, when he roughly pushed her backwards onto the bed, and straddled her as he climbed on top. Regan's eyes widened in pure panic.

"MICHAEL! NO!"

She tried to push him off, but he pinned her down, long red hair hanging down as he glared down as he forced her legs apart. She saw the bulge forming in his slacks, and knew whatever was there was living, pulsing was life, a dark devil spawn, a seed ready to be planted...and this was pure evil. She laid there and began to scream, thrashing her head from side to side, and slap him away. He forcefully gripped her wrists, holding onto her and pinning her down with all of his weight. When she tried to scream again, he let go for a second and slapped her as hard as he could right across the face. The sound of his hand slapping across her skin echoed in the room, as her head rocked back.

This was the first time ever that he raised a hand to her...but she knew this wasn't Michael.

This was something else...

She laid back, her lip split from the slap and staring to bleed. She tasted blood, and stared up completely terrified. No, this couldn't be happening. This was a nightmare, a terrible awful nightmare. She kept waiting to wakeup and be back in her husband's arms, safe and sound. She watched as he yanked down his zipper, as he laid on top of her. Laying back, Regan threw her head back, knowing what was going to happen... Snapping her eyes shut, she screamed.


	7. Chapter 7

"Michael no!"

Regan cried as he tore away her panties, moving the little bit of hanging fabric that was in his way. Regan suddenly then knew what was happening. Her husband was about to rape her. She understood that their quarters were soundproof, and even if it wasn't, she understood that Michael was so powerful no matter how loud her screams and cries got...no help would come. Michael pinned her down before he yanked down his zipper, pulling out his massive erection that stood straight up from a mass of reddish copper colored pubic hair. She had seen his penis many times, even up close, and in her mouth. She had been his first, and he hers. Michael and her had discovered each other's bodies throughout their brief marriage, and found that sex wasn't some filthy awful thing to be ashamed of. No, sex with Michael had been slow, and gentle. He constantly always seemed unsure, and apologized if she stiffened, and cried out. He always was tender, and constantly asked if he was hurting her? Sex with Michael wasn't some dirty messy act.

No, it was making love.

She remembered the first time she climaxed by him, hands grasping the sheets, glazed with sweat, and breathless. As time passed, and she became more of a woman, she no longer felt like the timid frightened mousy girl her father had brainwashed her into. Instead, she proudly stood by her husband's side, and found herself constantly gazing at him in wonder. He was very handsome. In fact, she saw how other women looked at him whenever they were out in public. He had beautiful blueish green eyes, and thick soft gorgeous red hair. His features were sharp, but handsome.

No...beautiful. Her husband was beautiful.

Ms. Mead constantly told her what an honor she had in being his bride. That they would rule the world together, and that Michael was absolutely crazy about her, and would give her anything, even life itself if she just asked. What she loved most about him was how young and naive he original started off as. Like a child in constant wonder. The brief time they were married, before and after the bombs hit were filled with beautiful memories. Memories of them laying in the hammock in Ms. Mead's backyard, laying in each other's arms, staring up at the stars. She remembered showing him records that she bought at the flea market downtown, and which music reminded her of her late mother. She remembered teaching him how to dance, and at dinner whenever Ms. Mead was out both would talk for hours, laughing about absolutely nothing. It seemed so insane that this sweet beautiful young man who constantly showered with with affection. Little kisses against her neck, snuggling against her, and petting her hair when they woke in the morning. The winks, the smiles, the way he stared at her truly in love. It seemed as if Michael was just a young child...not the antichrist, destined to destroy the world. Even after the bombs hit, she still refused to believe that Michael was evil. He was magic, yes...she believed that, but no...he couldn't be evil. She felt that in her heart. Their time in the shelter had been good. He made sure of that. Constantly taking her mind off the horrors that were happening above. Just last night the two had soaked in a warm bath by candlelight. He had washed her hair, and laid back, gently tracing his finger against the side of her body. Now here they were, a darkness had taken over her husband's eyes and for the first time since this all began...she knew the witches had been right. He was evil. What had she done? She had stuck by him through this all, wanting so badly to believe that everyone was wrong.

That Ms. Mead, the warlocks, all of the people who wanted to believe that Michael was the antichrist and destined to destroy the world were wrong. She felt she was the only one that truly knew this private side of Michael. The young childlike wonder, and passion he showed her. He had sworn to protect her, but she had felt him slipping away after they lost their daughter, and the end of the world approached. Reality had truly began to crumple when the bombs hit. He had really done it. The world had bombed itself into ash, yet she still was so blinded with love that she tried to convince herself that Michael wasn't responsible. That it was all these terrible evil leaders, and that Michael was just protecting her. She lived like a stupid school girl in love, locked away in their quarters, so blind with love that she thought originally it was their own private perfect little haven...but in reality it was a prison. She shrieked when his free hand that wasn't pinning her down by the wrist grabbed hold of his penis, forced himself between her two legs, and drove himself so directly and swiftly her insides cramped as she felt herself get torn by his size. He filled her all the way, before his other hand reached and tore the rest of her clothes, leaving her bare breasts. Laying back, Regan tried to push him off, but he gritted his teeth and pushed in harder. Regan cried out, throwing her head back, before she began to struggle and trash her head from side to side.

"NO!"

Suddenly Michael grabbed her throat hard enough to cut off her breath. Eyes widening, as she tried to gasp for air, she stared up at her husband's black lifeless eyes...demon eyes and knew this wasn't any dream. This was happening, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. His long red hair hung down, before he bucked his hips and drove himself into her again. She let out a small whisper of a cry as his grip tightened on her throat, nearly completely cutting off all of her air. She stared up terrified, tears of shock and pain spilling own the sides of her face, as Michael grinned.

"Shhhh my darling. It's too late to say no. Now accept me."

Regan's eyes widened as his hand continued to squeeze her throat. Staring up at those black lifeless eyes, she laid there helpless as Michael began to thrust into her at a frighting rate. His other hand roughly grabbed her breast, clawing at it, leaving ugly crude bloody marks. His ass lifted and fell between her two legs which bobbed there, toes curling, so desperately trying to make this stop. Michael lifted his chest, breathing deeply as he bit his bottom lip, and slammed himself inside of her, hurting her as he began thrusting like a frenzy. Regan tried looking away, sick to her stomach, before Michael leaned down, grabbing onto her tightly as he stiffened and roughly climaxed inside of her. Instead of warmth, she felt like a cold sludge fill her and begin to drip out. He gave a weak thrust, emptying himself completely, before he collapsed against her. Regan laid there stunned, half in shock, half in a daze before finally Michael lifted his head. His long hair was in his face as he shook it away and stared down at her. He closely studied her, not really looking concerned, but more curious than anything else. His eyes were normal now, and his face slightly flushed. He stared own, and looked as if he had just woken up sleepwalking. Regan laid there completely still, the ugly deep scratches across her breasts thinly bleeding. Michael released her throat, leaving ugly bruises on her throat. Regan laid there, staring off to the side, before Michael blinked. For a fraction of a second, she saw the real Michael. Her loving husband.

"Regan?"

He said, softly, barley above a whisper. For a moment he looked horrified, staring down and seeing what he had done. He pulled himself out of her, and a terrible cramp overtook her. She didn't know if it was semen or blood that was smeared all over her thighs. Rolling away from him, her hands went to her lower stomach, and she began to shiver. Michael tried reaching for her, but she flinched away. A few minutes later, Michael stood naked, and scooped her up. At first she wanted to struggle and fight him, but images of him throwing her down on the bed and raping her again made her stay silent. In shock, she simply laid there like a limp rag doll. He carried her like he had so many times before, and drew a steaming hot bath. When he gently eased her into the water, she cried out. She knew she was torn down below, as well as the wounds now across her breasts. Michael flicked his hand, and suddenly the pain was gone, as were the scratches. He was magic, and he was healing her...or otherwise getting rid of any evidence of what he had just done. She sat there, staring at him frightened as he knelt beside the tub, and used a facecloth to soap up and wash her. Once he was done, he lifted her up, dripping wet, and dried her off.

She sat on the bench, hair hanging in her face, eyes blank and on the verge of tears. He took a fresh plum colored silk dress and put it on her, before he offered her hand. Regan lifted her eyes, before her own hand reached and touched her now unmarked throat.

"You...raped me."

Michael stared down at her and frowned.

"Regan come to bed."

Regan lifted her eyes, welling with tears.

"I never thought you could hurt me...but...you did...your eyes..."

Michael stared down and sighed, she saw his very own eyes were starting to fill with tears.

"My father gave me instructions, it's time now for an heir...I didn't have a choice."

Regan stared up at him, now numb tears starting to roll down her pale face.

"Jesus Christ...what have I done?"

Michael glared down at her.

"You took my hand, and swore to stand by me. I won't lose you Regan...nor another child. My father made sure and you will carry my seed until it is time."

Regan stared up sickened as more tears fell from her face.

"Time for what?"

"For me to lead my father's legacy and continue his work. I can only do that if you love me, and stand by my side."

Regan wanted to scream. She wanted to slap him, and say she rather die. Instead, she watched Michael's hand gently twitch, and in seconds she fell into a trace. It wasn't quite a spell, but enough to leave her as an empty shell for the next few months. She was simply on audio pilot. Days began to blend into each other, as did the weeks, and finally months. Michael never raped her again, but they still had sex nearly every night. She wasn't disgusted by him, or frightened, she loved him despite it all, and allowed him to take care of her. Still, she felt half there. For hours on end she would simply sit and stare in a trace, not feeling anything. Michael took care of her every need, and every night slept with his arms tightly around her. When finally it was discovered she was pregnant, it was the first time she saw true happiness in Michael's eyes in what seemed like a lifetime.

That's when she knew. She was trapped, and put here for one reason and one reason only. To have the antichrist's child and more than likely die in doing so. She watched as her body grew with each day, feeling the kicks, and knowing she was carrying a ticking time bomb. She simply stayed in this trace, under her husband's spell...knowing she was married to pure evil, and that her only escape more than likely would be when this thing came ripping out of her, and into this terrible new destroyed world.

**Present**

Regan found enough strength to ease herself up from gripping onto the bed. Her water had indeed broke even though it was still too early. She knew this was happening for a reason, and whatever was going on downstairs, this was her one chance to do something. She held onto her huge pregnant stomach, hands firmly resting against the massive bump that stuck out perfectly from her thin frame, and knew some sort of demon was ready to let itself out. Time was short, and she couldn't risk it. Taking deep heavy breaths, she swayed for a second, before reaching for the door and opening it. She could hear her husband's voice down one of the halls, out of sight.

"But I am anything but ordinary."

She knew people were probably getting killed, massacred by Michael. He would sense something was wrong, and be here quickly if she didn't act fast. Before leaving the room, she stared down at the table, where a silver letter opener laid. She took it with shaking hands and held it up, closely looking at her reflection on the sharp blade. Just hours earlier she watched from her bed as Michael used it to open a sealed envelope of paperwork from the sanctuary. She tried to focus, and braced herself against the wall as a contraction hit her. she stiffened a cry, bitting down on her lip as the cramp roared through her hard enough to nearly make her fall. Michael's son was coming, and quickly. She stood in the hallway for a second, eyes closed as she focused on breathing, holding onto the wall as the pain slowly eased up. Silently she prayed for forgiveness.

She figured her soul as well as her baby's was damned for the choices she had made by standing with Michael. That, she expected. But what she prayed for was her daughter. The one she had lost before everything started happening. The result of Michael's love to her when it was still pure. She prayed for that child's soul. She slowly shuffled down the hall, when she stopped and looked in. A blond woman, Cordelia she believed was somehow here with that other witch with the wild red hair. Myrtle Snow, yes that was her name. Myrtle Snow. She had met them when Michael had performed the Seven Wonders which seemed like a lifetime ago.

There was a pretty young girl laying in one of the tubs. She was bleeding badly, and instantly Regan knew Michael had been responsible. She knew how he feared the witches, and now here they were. The two women froze, kneeling by the tub of the young girl. Regan grasped onto the doorway, before her eyes filled with tears of pure exhaustion.

"I'm sorry...this needs to stop once and for all. I'll try and hold him off."

Cordelia stared at her huge pregnant stomach in disbelief, before she slowly nodded at her. Regan felt another cramp coming on, and instead of taking another second, she turned and began to slowly make her way down the long hallway. She passed several empty doorways, before finally Michael turned the corner and came face to face with Regan. He was less than ten feet from her, and his face was scratched and splashed with blood. The second he saw her, his eyes widened.

"Regan?!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Before...**

Michael had nearly had a complete nervous breakdown after Regan miscarried, and Ms. Mead's death. Suddenly he felt powerless, scared, and exposed. He had been betrayed. One second he had become the next Supreme. The warlocks worshiped him, had arranged so he was protected and supported. Ms. Mead had stayed in the shadows, and helped him the entire time. She told him they were using the warlocks to use magic in gaining power. He trusted her, and loved her as the mother he never had. Whenever he thought of the spirit of his biological mother trying to murder him, a dull the overcame his chest. His own biological father hated him, his grandmother killed herself to be rid of him, and his birth mother had attempted in killing him when his power was just beginning to be discovered. After that, Ms. Mead took him in. She was the one who loved him, guided him, always had the right answers, and gave him the comfort he so badly wanted and needed. She told him pieces of the plan. He would gain the trust of those foolish warlocks, become the next supreme displaying his powers, and within time Ms. Mead would tell him what they would do next. She never lost her temper, she never shouted, or raised a hand to him.

No...she worshiped him.

She told him they had to be patient. That she would be at his side, and within no time he would rule the world. He would follow in his true father's footsteps, and everything would fall into place perfectly. With Ms. Mead he felt safe, at home, and loved. Ms. Mead had also brought Regan into his life. He never believed he could actually feel love, and have someone as a partner stand by his side. It amazed him how much he fell in love with Regan. How wounded, and helpless she was when he saved her from that bastard of a father, and had her accept him as what he was. She was timid, a little mousy on the outside, and amazed him by how eager she was to love him and stand by his side no matter what. Michael remembered so many nights at Ms. Mead's, his real home. He remembered laying in his double shared bed with Regan. His arms wrapped around his wife, a word that still amazed him. He still couldn't believe that he was actually married. That he had found someone who knew where he came from, and didn't treat him like some monster.

She was just like him, young mentally, naive, and needed him as much as she needed him. Most nights they would make love, and afterwards drift off to sleep in each other's arms. He remembered not that long ago laying in bed, still awake, staring down at her as she slept, feeling so much love in his heart it felt dangerous. He knew if anyone ever tried to hurt her again he would destroy them. When he learned of her pregnancy he truly couldn't have been any happier. Those brief months are busy and crazy ones as he met the warlocks and got ready for the Seven Wonders. Then everything fell apart. The warlocks who had supported him were killed, as was Ms. Mead and those bitch witches and Supreme made it impossible for him to ever bring her back. Regan miscarried, giving birth to a stillborn lifeless daughter before going into a coma.

Michael remembered wandering into the forest and nearly four days later stumbled out hallucinating, weakened, and nearly insane. He had visited his poor wife in the hospital, listening to the machines beep and click as she laid pale in the hospital bed, tubes and wires sticking out of her. He was shaking all over, hunched down, gathering her thin hand with an IV going into it. He gently grasped it with his own hands, before deeply moaning, waning more than anything than to have Ms. Mead to be here with him, to comfort him, and tell him what to do next. He wanted Regan to wake up, he wanted his daughter to still be safely growing inside her belly, he wanted to not be alone, and feel so lost... He wanted everything to just slow down and stop. He wanted Ms. Mead back, he wanted his wife to wake up, and he wanted his daughter...

He had held his lifeless daughter after she had been delivered, small, gray, like a cold dead slug. He secretly had tried to cast a spell to bring her back, to watch his tiny daughter's blueish gray color to suddenly become rosy and flushed. He so badly wanted to suddenly see life swell inside his child, as the baby started crying out, alive, warm, and healthy. Instead nothing. He had stood in the empty hospital room, feeling so small and frightened himself. He held his dad baby, eyes narrowing, focused, glaring as he concentrated deeply to try and bring his baby back. If he could do this one thing, maybe suddenly his Regan would magically wake up. Everything would somehow fall into place. He would do anything to see the look on Regan's face as her long eyelashes fluttered open, and seeing him light up as soon as he sat by her side and handed their beautiful daughter over, alive, warm, and squirming and thinly crying. Somehow even without Ms. Mead if he had his family he could figure out somehow how to deal with everything.

He could fix things, he knew he could... Instead...nothing.

He tried for over an hour tears spilling down his cheeks as he held the tiny corpse of his daughter, before finally his head ached so badly he thought he might pass out. He shook all over, his nose thinly bleeding, before he muttered an exhausted cry and lowered his head softly whispering...

"I'm sorry..."

The baby was dead, and Regan remained in her coma. He had visited her several times in the hospital, broken down, and worried sick. That's when he stumbled upon the cult of Devil worshipers, and these people led him to the company that could make another Ms. Mead. When Regan finally woke, he tightly squeezed her hands knowing his destiny. He promised her he would never allow anything to happen to her. Little did both of them know less than a year and a half later, he would be the one to harm her.

By violently raping her and impregnating her with his true heir.

**Present**

Michael stared down the hallway at his wife. She stood heavily pregnant, her hair sweeping across her pale face as she stared at him with heartbroken exhausted eyes.

"I loved you so much Michael...so much that I turned a blind eye to what you really were, and what you were responsible for. This has gone on long enough now my darling...I can't allow it anymore."

Cordelia suddenly knew what to do, she used her powers to grab a knife, as she turned away from Myrtle, and watched from the side room just out of sight. She listened to this poor girl's voice, so broken, so defeated. Michael stared at Regan as she swayed in the doorway. Behind her as the serial back staircase, thirty or so feet down was the cement floor below. Regan stood staring at her husband, his beautiful face, speckled with blood. Suddenly his eyes went to her stomach, a flicker of concern and panic flashed before them.

Regan swayed for a hand, before her hand came from behind her back holding the sharp blade. She aimed it to her stomach.

"I'll see you in Hell darling...I'll be waiting there, with your son in my arms."

Michael suddenly knew what she was doing. She stared at him, a single tear rolling down her face as another contraction ripped through her. She stiffened a cry, lightly biting down on her bottom lip before suddenly she raised the blade and plunged it through her stomach. It made a sickening wet noise as the place punched through the tight skin of her stomach, splashing blood up in a jet spray. Michael's eyes widened, his mouth forming a perfect "O". Regan twisted the blade deeper into her, as her face crumpled in agony before she let go, blood spraying everywhere, before she swayed and fell backwards, right off the ledge, and plunging down to the hard cement floor below. Michael's eyes stayed wide in shock as he screamed...

"NOOOOOOO!"

Taking off running, boots pounding the floor, he ran as fast as he could, before skidding to a halt and looking down, his long red hair hanging in his face. Staring down, he stared and saw Regan's body sprawled out on the floor below, laying in a huge puddle of blood. Staring down, Michael began shaking all over. Breaking out into a run, he hurried down the stairs, his dinner jacket flapping behind him as he skipped two, three steps at a time. Reaching the floor, he fell to his knees, skidding in his wife's blood before he stared down at her. Shaking all over, he stared down. Outraged, he stared down at her, blood still pumping from the handle of the knife that stuck out of her stomach. Micheal's face crumpled as he gathered her up in his arms, blood soaking into his clothes and smearing against her hands and face. Cradling her, he let out a half outraged defeated sob.

"What did you do?! Why Regan...why?"

His hand went to her swollen stomach which thick syrup like blood had slowed to a trickle against his knife that protruded out of her. He felt for his son, and instead felt nothing. He knew she had stabbed him, and killed him. Their second child now gone... He firmly held his hand against her stomach which blood trickled over his thin fingers, before he stared down at her. Tears were still rolling from her half closed eyes. If he knew there was even a chance, he would have ripped his son straight from her womb that very instant. Instead, he knew it was over. He knelt there, holding his wife in his arms, his face crumbling a he shook all over.

"What did you do? What did you do?"

He softly whispered feeling absolutely hopeless as she weakly stared up at him, blood bubbling from her lips.

"Because my darling...we were meant to be dead."

She said barley above a whisper. Michael glared down, frustrated shocked tears falling from his own narrow eyes before Regan's gaze shifted, as she stared off to the side dead. A hush washed over them, before Cordelia slowly came down the stairs, her own knife in her hand. Michael slowly looked up, still holding his wife's lifeless dead body with his murdered son still inside before he could even be born.

"Michael...it's over."

Michael slowly gazed up, his hair hanging down, his eyes burning with hate as he held onto Regan's dead body. No, he could fix this. First he could slaughter the rest of these witches, then he could bring back Regan and his son, yes...he knew he was powerful enough to do that.

He couldn't lose Ms. Mead, Regan, and another child again...no...he wouldn't allow it.

"You haven't won anything..."

He hissed. Cordelia sadly shook her head staring down at the young girl's corpse who had been unlucky enough to have gotten wrapped up with the likes of Michael Langdon...

"You still haven't gotten it have you?"

As Cordelia continued to talk to Michael about the simple facts that there wasn't just winning and losing, Myrtle left Mallory and approached the edge of the stairwell. The sight below was shocking. She stared down at the young pregnant bride of Michael laying in a pool of blood dead. Michael continued kneeling there, holding her lifeless bloody body as Cordelia finished her speech, raising the knife she had above her heart.

"Satan may have one son...but my sisters are legion mother fucker!"

With that she plunged the blade straight into her heart. The second it happened Myrtle's eyes widened as she screamed down below...

"CORDELIA!"

Cordelia smiled at Michael's stunned expression before she collapsed...at that exact moment Mallory awoke, surged with strength as suddenly the water in the tub began to boil as she started shouting the spell. Within seconds her body sank down below the surface and for just a few mere moments before everything became dim, Michael stared at the dead supreme, knowing something terrible was happening. Turning his attention back to his dead wife, he squeezed her blood dead corpse against him, and squeezed his eyes shut. He could bring her back.

He knew he could...

**Elsewhere...**

But none of that happened. Mallory ran Michael over three times, leaving him for dead, knowing she had been able to return to a different space in time where she had prevented Michael to rising to power. She had found him when he was his weakest, and still very human. She had locked eyes for just a moment with Michael's grandmother, and saw some unspoken sense of relief and thanks sweep over the woman's eyes. With that, she threw her car into gear and drove down the road, taking a look at the beautiful neighborhood knowing at least this would give this world a small fighting chance... At that exact moment Regan, the mousey young pretty girl who worked at the library and lived with his abusive father was walking home from running to the small mini-market to get her father cigarettes. She hadn't seen the car, but instantly her eyes widened seeing the young man in the jean jacket laying in the middle of the road.

It took her a second to truly register what she was seeing, before a man walking his dog on the opposite side of the street spotted it as well.

"Oh my God!"

Regan broke out into a run and approached the body. It was bad, real bad. The young man's body was positioned in such a way she knew his legs were completely broken. The man with the dog hurried over, holding his dog taunt against him.

"What happened?!"

Regan's eyes were frantic as she knelt down beside him.

"I don't know, it must have been a hit and run. Do you have a phone?"

The man nodded, taking his I phone out of his pocket, and dialed quickly even though just looking at this poor kid he knew he was as good as dead. Regan stared down at the young man. His handsome bright blue eyes weakly stared up at her. He tried to speak but instead gurgled up some blood. Feeling her heart break for him, Regan gently brushed his bangs back with her cupped hand.

"Shhhh...don't try to talk. We're calling an ambulance...you're going to be okay."

Regan knew this was a lie, but she needed to try and comfort this poor guy. He looked roughly around her age even though she had never seen him before.

"H...h...house..."

He barley whispered, blood bubbling up between his lips. Regan's eyebrows raised before she glanced over at the huge brick house across the street. "Do you live there?" The guy walking the dog, on the phone shook his head and motioned over.

"No way, that house has been empty for years."

He then continued to talk to the 911 dispatcher giving directions to the street. Regan stared down at the young man who's chest heaved. Feeling sorry, she scooted closer, and gently continued brushing his soft hair back, trying to give him any sense of comfort if he very well was going to die here on the street.

"Shhhh...it's okay..."

Right before Michael's heart stopped and he died, for just a fraction of a second he locked eyes up with Regan's. They stared at each other not knowing that in another life...in another timeline both had been in love and had lost two children, both damned from the very beginning. For Michael Langdon, the antichrist...a monster...this would be the closest he would ever get to feeling true love. With that, Michael shook, before his gaze went off and he peacefully died. Regan sighed, before the man with the dog stepped closer, holding his phone to his side.

"Ambulance is coming."

Regan sighed befrie reaching down and gently shutting the young man's beautiful faded blue eyes. Sighing, she continued brushing his hair back, hating that whoever did this had driven away like a coward.

"Doesn't matter...he's dead."

"Jesus..."

Regan sighed, knowing she shouldn't move the body. She felt, and saw he had no wallet. Here this stranger died before her...and she didn't even know his name.

**The end.**

_**\- Thanks for all the kind reviews! Would love to do one based off 1984!**_


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